


The Iliad

by xavier87



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ancient Greece, Alternate Universe - Trojan War Setting (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), Anal Sex, Anya Lives (The 100), Anya is Patroclus, Bellamy is Menelaus, Clarke is Briseis, Clexanya - Freeform, Clexanya children, F/F, Finn is Paris, G!p Anya, G!p Lexa, Injury Recovery, Jaha is delusional, Lexa Lives (The 100), Lexa is Achilles, Loss of Virginity, Major Character Injury, Marcus is Priam, Minor Violence, No rape or abuse, Pike is Agamemnon, Roan is Hector, Smut, Vaginal Sex, inspired by the iliad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:34:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 46,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26406574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xavier87/pseuds/xavier87
Summary: Lexa, the best warrior that ever lived, and her cousin Anya accompany the Greek army on its way to Troy to recover Helen, queen of Sparta and Bellamy's wife, kidnapped by the Trojan prince Finn.Will the two lovers and their faithful Myrmidons be able to conquer the impregnable fortress, or will they succumb to fate and the blue eyes of a prisoner?
Relationships: Anya/Clarke Griffin, Anya/Clarke Griffin/Lexa, Anya/Lexa (The 100), Clarke Griffin/Lexa
Comments: 248
Kudos: 562





	1. Prologue

The prince woke with a start, his reflection in the mirror across the room panting and looking at him with confused eyes. Naked, the young man stood from the bed, and walked to the nearby cabinet where a golden basin full of water had been placed for the night. Shivering despite the fire burning in his room, he submerged his hands and splashed cold water on his face to chase away the images of his last dream, without success.

Finn, prince of Troy and son of the benevolent King Marcus, had seen himself herding cattle on Mount Ida, not far from the city. There, three superb women had suddenly appeared in front of him, asking him to select the most beautiful among them. Facing his hesitation, the women disrobed to show him all their attributes, and the prince thanked all the gods for the vision that burned itself in his mind. Still, he couldn’t choose a winner, as the three goddesses were all stunning in their own way.

In an attempt to bribe him, the first one, a stern brunette with long brown hair and dark eyes, introduced herself as Hera, Zeus’s wife, and offered to make him king of all Europe and Asia. The second woman, Athena, the goddess of wisdom and war whose gray eyes stared deep into the prince’s soul, said that she would make him the greatest and wisest warrior. The last one, Aphrodite, with her long blond hair and creamy skin, promised him the love of the most beautiful woman on earth: Helen of Sparta. After careful consideration, the romantic prince had made his choice with his heart, and he had awarded the prize, an apple, to Aphrodite.

The dream had been most peculiar, so vivid that the young man could remember every single detail clearly, and it kept him awake for the rest of the night. When morning came, Finn put on a woolen tunic and a _himation_ with a hood to hide his identity, and made his way to a small temple near the palace dedicated to Apollo. Once there, he purified himself and offered a sacrifice to the god, before taking the priest to the side and telling him about his strange dream.

Confirming what the young prince had thought, the priest, an old man by the name of Jaha, with a gray beard and curly black hair, announced that it had been a vision sent by the Olympians themselves, and that by declaring Aphrodite the most beautiful of the three, Finn was in the goddess’s good graces. He did, however, give him a warning the woman born of the froth had forgotten to mention: the most beautiful woman in the world, Helen of Sparta, natural daughter of Zeus and Leda, the wife of the former Spartan king Tyndareus, was a married woman. Not wanting the old man to grow concerned, the prince assured him that he wouldn’t act irrationally, and that if Helen was in fact destined to love him, the gods would see to it in due time.

After leaving the temple, Finn returned to the palace to devise a plan. Helen’s husband, King Bellamy of Sparta, was a healthy young man. The Trojan prince had no intention of waiting decades for him to fall sick or get killed before he could claim what was rightfully his. With the help of his most trusted friend, a noble by the name of Murphy, the young man came up with an ingenious idea. He would travel to Sparta as an emissary, on behalf of his father, King Marcus, and leave with his intended.

Convincing the King to let him go to Sparta took some time, but Marcus eventually relented, happy to see his son take interest in the political life of Troy instead of spending all his time courting young women. The prince had left a trail of broken hearts and stolen virtues in every district of Troy, from the noblewomen to the fishermen’s wives, and the king had had to pay off more than one scorned husband to avoid scandals.

A few weeks after his dream, the Trojan prince sailed for Sparta, and the woman promised to him, with 10 _pentekonters_ and gifts for King Bellamy. Poseidon had to have approved of his quest, he thought, as the sea remained calm the whole journey, and they made it to Greece in record time.

As Fate would have it, Bellamy was away for a fortnight, visiting a neighboring kingdom, when Finn and his men landed in Sparta. Nonetheless, the Trojans were well received by the king’s half-sister, Octavia, and the court, and stayed in Sparta for over a week. The Trojan prince forced himself to hide his boredom when Bellamy’s counselors insisted on discussing politics and possible exchanges between the two cities, not wanting to ruin his cover. He enjoyed the visit of Sparta, even managing to spend some time in a state brothel, curious to see if the women were any different on this side of the sea.

On the evening of the third day, his patience was finally rewarded when he was introduced to Helen, the queen of Sparta. The tales of her beauty didn’t quite do her justice, as it turned out, as she was a vision. Not that he would have dared to voice his thoughts, by fear of being struck by lightning or worse, but she seemed to him even more beautiful than the three goddesses who had visited his dream. The oneiric apparitions had been magnificent, truly, and yet the woman standing in front of him, draped in a loose-fitting _peplos_ that showed a lot of creamy skin, was breathtaking. Her long blond hair was pulled over her right shoulder, descending in soft waves until the underside of her breast. In the sunlight, it seemed to be woven with threads of gold. Her eyes, luminous and perfectly situated between her nose and her temples, were a shade of deep blue that reminded the prince of the sea on a beautiful sunny day. Men would have gladly died for the pleasure of getting themselves lost in them. Her face was slightly oval, with well-defined cheekbones and an aquiline nose chiseled by Hephaistos himself.

Finn remained agape for a few seconds, taken by the beauty of the woman, before he remembered his position and, with the nicest smile he could muster, introduced himself. If the audience noticed the interaction, they didn’t pay it much attention, accustomed as they were to see young men, and sometimes women, lose their composure at the first sight of the queen of Sparta. If they had, they might have noticed the unusual glint in Helen’s eyes, or the light shade of pink that covered her cheeks when she greeted the handsome foreign prince, and the tragedy could have been avoided. But the _Moirai_ were as merciless as the scissors they used to cut the threat of life, and destiny was as immovable as Mount Olympus.

The following few days, the two royals spent as much time together as possible, while trying not to arouse suspicion. Helen opened up about her loveless marriage. Bellamy was a good-enough man, and he treated her kindly, but he had never shown her much interest. All he had ever been interested in was the throne that had come with her hand, as well as the honor of calling the most beautiful woman in the world his wife. He hadn’t even made the trip himself to court her, sending his older brother Pike in his stead. Finn, however, was charming at every turn, complimenting the woman on her intelligence, her kindness; anything other than her beauty. And his strategy worked, as the queen found herself rapidly enamored with the foreigner who saw beyond her appearance.

When the week came to an end, Helen didn’t need much convincing to agree to flee Sparta with her new lover. On the last morning, while the court was saying goodbye to the Trojan prince, wishing him a pleasant return to his city, the queen was absent, officially claiming to have a migraine. Instead of remaining in her private quarters, where all thought she was, she hurried to the Trojan ships, disguised and escorted by Murphy. Finn and his men joined her soon after, and the _pentekonters_ left with the tide, carrying away the exhilarated prince and his conquest, as Aphrodite had promised.

A few days later, when Bellamy, King of Sparta, returned home, he found his sister and entourage devastated and fearful of his reaction. As if on cue, he threw one of his advisors from a balcony and ran two more with his sword at the news that his wife had run away with another man, a little foreign prince at that. Octavia, his younger half-sister, was the only one who managed to calm him after swearing to the furious man that they would get her back, no matter what.

The king might have had a temper, but he was no fool. The Trojans were too far away already, he wouldn’t be able to catch up with them before they made it back to Troy. Which left only two options, diplomacy and war. The former could lead to his own ridicule, with the risk of having the whole of Greece learn of his wife’s betrayal, and for the latter, that would at least allow him to cleanse his honor with the blood of his enemy, he needed more soldiers. Troy was known to be an impregnable fortress, and the Spartan army, though composed of the most ferocious warriors, wouldn’t be enough to break its high walls.

Out of desperation, Bellamy went to seek his older brother’s advice. Pike, King of Mycenae, was a complicated and dangerous man, smart and patient when he needed to be, but irascible when thwarted. Half-brother of Bellamy, he had taken the then teenager under his wing and trained him in the arts of war, paying little to no attention to the man’s younger sister, with whom he shared no blood. At the tale of his brother’s misfortune, the ambitious ruler saw a way to expand his influence, with the assured support of most Greek kingdoms.

For sadly, Finn didn’t know that the rumors of young Helen’s beauty had spread so far that when she had been old enough to marry, many suitors had traveled to Sparta to seek her hand. Her father, Tyndareus, worried that the situation would lead to conflicts and war, had made all of them swear an oath to accept his decision and defend the chosen husband. By kidnapping Bellamy’s wife, the Trojan prince had expected, at worse, a war with Sparta. Alas, when Pike rallied them, the kings and former suitors stood by their oath, and it was the whole of Greece that would show up on Troy’s beach a few months later. More than one hero would meet their destiny under the walls of the city, including three young women who didn’t know yet where their fates would lead them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contrary to what the highly inaccurate movie Troy depicted, the Trojan war lasted 10 years. We don’t know much about what happens during the first 9, as The Iliad focuses on the last one, and mostly on the quarrel between Achilles and Agamemnon. Here I chose to spread the action over the course of several years instead. The only thing I kept from the movie is Diane Kruger in Helen, because she is truly a beauty!
> 
> a chiton = a tunic garment of linen, worn by men and women  
> a himation = a large cloak wrapped around the body, over the chiton  
> a pentekonter = an ancient Greek galley with 50 oarsmen  
> a peplos = a piece of cloth worn over the chiton by women, the ancestor of the himátion  
> the Moirai = the Fates; three female personification of Destiny who control the thread of life of the mortals.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: brief mention of a consensual pederastic eromenos/erastes relationship between an adult and a 15-year-old (not detailed)
> 
> I do not condone this in real life because of the "grooming" aspect it entails, but it is representative of the Greek habits at that time.  
> The relationship between Lexa and Anya detailed in this story, as well as the sex scenes, happens between two adults who are very much equal in all things.

The sun had already been up for a few hours over the kingdom of Phthia, in Thessaly, and the temperature was only rising. The palace of King Peleus was buzzing with activity, from the servants cleaning and preparing lunch to the guards reporting the latest news. By contrast, the gardens, located behind the beautiful residence, were quiet and peaceful, save for the noise of clanging _xiphos_. There, near a pond of clear water, stood Lexa and her cousin Anya, both panting from exertion and glistening with sweat.

The princess of Phthia was a tall, lean 20-year-old brunette with a chiseled jaw and piercing green eyes. Well-versed in the arts of war, the woman was known as possibly the best fighter in the whole of Greece. Her father, King Peleus, had made sure that she would learn to wield all kinds of weapons as soon as she could walk, and she had not disappointed him. Despite rigorous training, she had a well-proportioned body, not displaying an overabundant amount of muscle, but hiding a core strength rivaling the strongest of man. If she owed her military aptitudes to her father, she had also inherited her mother’s beauty. Thetis had been gone not long after giving birth to the brunette, and that sudden disappearance, coupled with her otherworldly looks, had led people to think that she might have been a Nereid. Lexa had been pained as a child not to know her mother’s affection, but she had put all her energy into her training, and had soon surpassed her teachers. If one hadn’t heard of her mortal connections, they would have believed her the natural daughter of Ares and Athena.

Her cousin Anya, five years older than her, had been a constant companion in the brunette’s life. She had been the one to comfort Lexa as a child through nightmares and broken bones. When the girl had turned 15, Anya had volunteered to take over her training with weapons, and in other physical areas. As it was common at the time, the teenager had become her _eromenos_ , a younger lover who one would educate, while the older blonde with almond-shaped eyes and long, slim limbs had assumed the role of _erastes_ , a protector of sorts. To Anya’s pride and pleasure, the girl had proved herself to be an excellent student, as talented with her cock as she was with a spear, and unstoppable with both.

The two women had been training for a couple of hours, and they were looking forward to a good bath before lunch. As they often would, they had chosen to finish the session with a match, training swords and shields battling over and over. Anya had experience and reach on her side, but the younger woman excelled in her timing and technics. Sensing the tiredness creeping up on her, the blonde decided to end the fight quickly, and lunged towards her opponent. Lexa easily deflected with a swat of her shield, and armed her sword. To her surprise, her cousin, instead of getting ready to parry, stepped forward to kick her square in the chest, sending her rolling on her back. Thinking her victory assured, Anya ran forward, ready to point her weapon at the younger woman’s throat. It was a bad move as Lexa, protecting her face with her shield, blindly swept the blonde’s legs with her own. Anya landed heavily on her side, grunting at the sharp pain in her left arm. It wasn’t broken, she had had enough broken bones to recognize the feeling right away, but she would probably have a nasty bruise by the evening. She was about to jump back on her feet when she felt a cold pressure on her throat. Lexa, who had turned around to get closer, was pushing her blunt sword against her, a smirk pulling at her pouty lips.

“I believe that makes me the winner. You know what that means, old woman.”

“Fine,” Anya huffed, removing the sword with her hand before they both got up. “But you need a bath first!”

And without further ado, she grabbed her younger cousin by the shoulders and pushed her right into the pond. By the time the brunette came out, spluttering and cursing, she was already running towards the palace, her laugh echoing around the garden.

“Wait until I catch you,” Lexa growled, a murderous look in her eyes.

The warrior took off in long strides, going directly for where she was sure to find the other woman, in her bedroom. When she arrived, Anya had removed her leather breastplate and greaves, leaving her in her _chiton_.

“You are going to pay for that,” Lexa threatened. “Now help me.”

Hiding her smirk, the blonde made quick work of the younger woman’s chest plate, rubbing a breast with the back of her hand in the process, which made Lexa whimper. Anya did her best not to chuckle at the clear state of arousal her lover was in, nipples already hard and visible through her soaked tunic. She kneeled to remove the greaves, pretending to ignore the tent that was forming at the front of Lexa’s _chiton_. The blonde took her time untying the right greave, and then the left one, massaging the shins longer than necessary.

“Get on with it,” she heard, smiling at the need audible in Lexa’s voice. Anya let her hands inch upwards, following the muscular legs and admiring the tan skin on display. She slowly moved her left one over a strong butt cheek, appreciating the smooth skin and the clenching her gesture had elicited, while the right remained at the front, caressing a wet thigh before cupping the testicles and rolling them gently. Lexa bit her lower lip, not wanting to react so soon to her _erastes_ ’ ministrations, but the small jerk of her hips didn’t go unnoticed.

With a smirk, the blonde approached her face and kissed the semi-erect cock on the side a few times, before licking at the slit. By then, the brunette had given up all pretenses, and she let a moan escape while bringing her own hand to her breast. Encouraged, Anya repeated her action twice before engulfing the now hard and proud shaft into her mouth. She sucked on it for a few minutes, alternating between playing with the tip and pushing it as far as she could down her throat, before she slipped a finger towards the narrow slit present behind the scrotum of her lover. She had never been able to take Lexa there, her own cock far too big for the small opening, but they had discovered that, on occasion, a well-placed finger or tongue could precipitate the brunette over the edge. Anya began to play with the small hole, her finger coated in precum to facilitate its insertion, when Lexa growled, “Don’t cheat!” and pulled at the blond hair, forcing Anya to release her glistening cock and stand up. After a dirty kiss, full of teeth and saliva, the brunette shoved her onto the nearby bed, the older woman’s cock painfully erect and trapped between her stomach and the mattress. Lexa wasted no time in lifting both their tunics over their waists, and she started rubbing her shaft between the strong pale buttocks.

“Lex,” she heard her cousin plead, Anya’s hips jerking with impatience. Not wanting to wait any longer, she dipped her fingers into a container full of oil on the nightstand, before inserting one slowly into her lover’s tight ring, giving her time to adjust at the slight burn. When Anya nodded that she was ready, she added a second, and then a third, working her up. Finally, after a few minutes of preparation, she replaced them with the head of her cock, and slid in. She had to bite her lips to stop herself from coming at the sensation of her tip fitting so snugly, before she felt the resistance give and Anya open up. Once she was fully sheathed inside her lover’s tight canal, she began thrusting deeply, aiming for the spot that would invariably send spikes of pleasure up the blonde’s spine. She knew she had found it when she heard a gasped “Lexa” and the woman underneath her grabbed the bed cover with both her fists, her cock rubbing erratically against the bed. A few moments later, she felt Anya come and shudder, the ring of her muscle clenching around Lexa’s cock, forcing her to release long spurts of her seed. Once her orgasm had tapered off, she pulled out carefully, before slapping the naked bottom under her with a smirk.

“Wait until tomorrow,” Anya panted before rolling away from the pool of cum under her, “I’ll make you squirm and beg until your voice is sore.”

“Keep telling yourself that, Grandma,” the brunette chuckled before kissing her lover on the lips, far more gently than before.

After recovering from their morning activities, and taking a long-overdue bath, the two women walked downstairs, ready to eat lunch. They had barely sat at the table, however, that a guest made an impromptu appearance; Odysseus, King of Ithaca, a faraway island, renowned for his brilliance and good advice. The bearded man took a seat and didn’t waste time explaining the purpose of his visit. Helen, Bellamy’s wife, had been abducted by the Trojans, and Pike was calling upon all her former suitors to honor their oath and defend the king of Sparta. Being one of them, Odysseus had had no choice but to agree and leave his wife and toddler at home.

“Why Lexa, though?” Anya couldn’t help but inquire. “She wasn’t part of the oath; she was much too young at the time.”

“I know, but she is the best warrior there has ever been. A prophecy was made, stating that Troy couldn’t be taken with her,” the man replied honestly. “And frankly, I think that my wife would feel much better knowing that I have Lexa and Anya of Phthia by my side, which is why I have come from so far to convince you to join us.”

Lexa scoffed but didn’t answer. In her heart, she knew that the campaign would be a long and bloody one; there was a reason Troy had never been invaded before. Could she tear her faithful Myrmidons away from their homes for years? But at the same time, could she ignore her destiny? If Pike had really united most of the Greek kingdoms, this war would be the greatest of the century. The tales of the heroes who managed to break down the fortress would be sung for generations, their legends carrying them as close to the gods as a mortal could be. Would she really hide in her home while her compatriots fought that glorious war and earned their entrance in the Elysian Fields?

The following morning, the princess visited the temple of Phthia. Not for the first time, she wished she could talk to her mother about her current predicament. Her father was a warrior, he had immediately told her that her destiny was to take Troy with the help of their Myrmidons, and that she would bring honor to their family. But Lexa wondered what her mother would say about all this. Unable to contact her, she had to trust the gods instead, and after sacrificing an ox to Hera, she interrogated the head priestess, a middle-aged woman with silver hair and wrinkled eyes. After looking at the ox’s entrails for a while, she declared:

“If you remain here, Princess, you will have a long, uneventful life. You will marry, have children, and all of them will love you very much. But when the last of their children will have left this earth, your name will be forgotten. If you go to Troy, on the other hand, you will find glory and what you didn’t know you were missing. The tales of your exploits will be told for millennia. But mark my word, Princess, if you choose to sail to Troy, you will never again set foot in Phthia or see your father. This will be the price of your illustrious destiny.”

Shaken by the prophecy, the young woman nodded in thanks and returned to her palace, lost in thoughts. She had always known that she would probably meet her end on a battlefield; the gods rarely blessed a mortal with such abilities for war without expecting him or her to thank them by spilling rivers of blood, until another hero, younger or luckier arrived. And yet, knowing that she could live a happy life if she chose to was a tantalizing prospect. Part of her wanted nothing more than to raise a family and live a long life, preferably by Anya’s side.

Her cousin seemed to have sensed her unease, as she grabbed the brunette by the arm and pulled her into her bedroom before anyone else could ask too many questions. There, in the privacy they so rarely had, Lexa let herself voice her concerns and doubts, knowing that the blonde was the only person in the world who wouldn’t think less of her.

“The choice is yours, Lexa,” Anya sighed, one of her lover’s hands in hers, “I will follow you whatever you decide, you know that.”

“I will announce my decision in the morning. For now, I just want to lie with you and then ride a horse around our land. Is that OK?” the younger woman asked, unusually shy.

Knowing that it wasn’t the time to tease, the blonde removed her _himation_ and sat on the bed, tugging her lover gently until Lexa straddled her lap, her face a few inches over Anya’s. She began to massage the tense shoulders and neck, until the brunette, groaning in pleasure, let her forehead rest against a lean shoulder.

“Relax,” Anya cooed, rejoicing at the rare display of vulnerability, “I’m here, you are not alone.”

And when the older woman felt the princess lightly snore, she lay supine on the bed, Lexa spread on top of her, and engraved in her memory what would be one of their last moments of peace for a very long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a xiphos = short sword used as a secondary weapon by the hoplites (the first one was a spear, the doru)  
> a chiton = a tunic garment of linen, worn by men and women  
> a himation = a large cloak wrapped around the body, over the chiton  
> Elysian Fields = the final resting place of the souls of the heroic and the virtuous in Greek mythology


	3. Chapter 3

After their nap, the two warriors rode around the city and the land surrounding Phthia. Lexa didn’t say much, too busy engraving every sight, every sound, every face in her memory, and Anya knew better than to disturb her. The princess needed time to say goodbye to her land and subjects, no doubting for a second the veracity of the prophecy. It was difficult for the blonde as well to leave the country she had come to call home after her father had left her under Peleus’s care, but she knew that her pain was nothing compared to her cousin’s.

They slept separately that night, Anya turning and turning on her mattress while Lexa simply gave up after a few hours. Not wanting to wake anyone up and give them cause for concern, she exited through the window of her room and nimbly hauled herself onto the roof. Once there, she sat under the beautiful _Selene_ , not quite full yet, and got lost in her memories.

Though she had traveled with her father and visited some of the neighboring kingdoms over the years, most of her life had been spent here, in Phthia. She knew every path around the hills, had run through all the narrow streets of the city as a child, had climbed many of the trees surrounding the palace. But most importantly, she adored her people, and they loved her back. King Peleus might have been a warrior, but he had also encouraged peace and brought prosperity to his kingdom, and Lexa had secretly hoped that one day she would be able to follow in his footsteps. She had wished to rule with fairness and prayed the gods to grant her the wisdom to do so. Alas, it was not meant to be. The brunette refused to cry or cower in the face of her destiny. If the Fates wanted her to go to Troy and see it fall, then she would. And if she was going to die on foreign land, then she would make sure her name survived her.

The following morning, Anya found her lover downstairs, ready to announce her decision. To no one’s surprise, Lexa declared that she would take the Myrmidons to Troy, leaving her father to defend his land with the rest of their army. The blonde didn’t comment on her choice and simply nodded her acceptance. Her spear, her shield, her sword, her blood, her life, all belonged to her cousin; even her heart, though neither of them had ever said the words. They were warriors, Ares’s servants, sweet promises and words of love were not for them.

Assembling the army and the ships took a fortnight, which the two cousins spent training harder than ever and fucking every night. It was as if they both had been reminded that, as mortals, their days were numbered and subjected to the whims of the gods who could be cruel and inconstant in their favors, and they decided to make the most of them. On the last night, they fell asleep side by side in Lexa’s room, too exhausted to do more than lazily kiss after they had spent the day reviewing their troops and getting ready for the departure.

When the fateful morning arrived, Lexa and Anya sailed away with 50 ships and about 6,000 Myrmidons. The brunette allowed herself one last longing look at her homeland before she forced herself to stand tall at the front of the ship, a tragic figurehead of beauty and resolve. It took them nine days to reach Aulis, in Boeotia, where Pike had decided to gather the whole Achaean army before sailing towards Troy. There, they would have to wait for the rest of the kings and their men coming from far away provinces such as Elis, Laconia, and Argolis. Even Bellamy and his Spartan were still on their way, having to travel around Argolis and Attica first.

For two long weeks, the growing army remained in Aulis, ships as far as the eye can see anchored in the shallow sea and tied together. As they couldn’t all step onshore without overwhelming the neighboring villages, most soldiers were forced to stay onboard, surviving on fish and clams, impatiently waiting for the day they would sail across the Aegean Sea.

While Pike and his followers went on hunts and enjoyed the company of the local women, Lexa, Anya, and Indra, the Myrmidon general, organized a rotation so all their soldiers could spend time on land to keep up with their training, which was impossible to maintain on the ships. The two cousins were sharing a single tent, not bothering to hide their relationship from their fellow warriors, despite the weird looks some threw at them. Now 20 years old, Lexa would have been expected to become an _erastes_ herself, and put some distance between her and her former mentor. The brunette, however, had never felt the need to do so, and though her relationship with Anya had evolved over the years to one of equals, she adamantly refused to end it. She had slept with a couple of other women, curious to see if she would feel differently, but the dirty-blond haired woman was the only lover she wanted, and she had dreaded the day her father would arrange a marriage with another princess. At least now, she didn’t need to worry about that. Though most people didn’t care what happened between them, one nasty burly soldier by the name of Quint thought himself funny when he told her that, “since she was clearly still a child, she should have stayed home to suck on her mother’s tits.” No one else dared to say anything on the matter after Lexa killed him in five seconds flat.

Almost a moon after the Myrmidons had left Phthia, Bellamy and his 50 ships of Spartans arrived, accompanied by the rest of the army. There were now 1186 _pentekonters_ amassed between Aulis and Eretria, a force of around 100,000 men, the biggest army the world had ever seen ready to head for Troy.

To everyone’s surprise, the winds ceased as soon as the decision to weigh anchor was given, leaving the ships stuck. Fearing the soldiers’ discontentment, some of which had already spent five weeks on board and expected to have to spend at least five more before arriving on Troy’s beach, the kings decided to consult an oracle. A priest from Thebes was brought in, and after reading several signs, he declared that Artemis was responsible for their misfortune. During a hunt, King Pike had apparently killed an elusive deer, and boasted that he was a better hunter than the maiden goddess, angering her. As punishment, she expected the proud man to sacrifice his older daughter, the princess Iphigenia.

When Lexa and Anya retired into their tent that evening, they were as lost as the rest of the soldiers. Would Pike really go through with it and sacrifice his own child? Would the goddess relent before it was too late? The man’s arrogance was his worse flaw, but punishing his daughter for it was cruel. Not unusual for an Olympian, but cruel nonetheless.

“What do you think Lexa?” the blonde asked once they were both undressed except for their _chiton_. “Are we going to pack up and return home?”

“I doubt it,” the warrior answered after a moment. “Pike is backed into a corner. He forced all the kings and heroes Greece has to gather their armies and leave their families; promised them glory and riches, they won’t forgive him if he decides to give up and forget their oath, no matter the personal cost.”

“Besides,” she added, “the man is so ambitious, he would stop at nothing to achieve his goal. I wouldn’t be surprised if sacrificing a child, a daughter especially, isn’t enough to make him give up on his dreams of conquest.”

“Hmm,” her cousin agreed without conviction. “And you? What would you do if you were in his place?”

Lexa looked at her surprise at the turn the conversation was taking. The two hardened women were not used to sentimentality and declarations. They trained, they fought, and they slept together, as they had for five years. The brunette knew that her cousin was the one person on earth she could lower her defenses with, but even then, she usually tried to keep her mask of stoicism in place.

“How would I know? I don’t have children. Why concern myself with things that can’t be?”

“How about me then? If you had to sacrifice me to your life’s ambition, so that Phthia could have peace for example, would you?”

“Anya...” Lexa warned, uneasy at the question. Taking it as her answer, the blonde huffed and moved to exit the tent, decided to go sleep on their ship. Before she could step out, however, the brunette grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her towards the center of the tent.

“There would be no peace for Phthia without you,” she answered, staring at the deep brown eyes she knew better than her own reflection. “I would burn our enemies’ lands to the ground and spill a river of blood. And then I would travel to the Underworld and release your soul from it. Even if I had to fight Cerberus with my bare hands.”

Not wanting Lexa to see the emotion overwhelm her, Anya crashed their lips together, teeth knocking, and she pushed her tongue into the warm mouth, not waiting for the brunette to open it. She kissed her again and again, stealing the breath from her lungs, until they fell into the bed behind them. Though younger, Lexa was often the more dominant in bed, and she preferred to be on top. But now and then, she would let Anya take control, and it was one of those times.

The two women undressed each other, their lips separating only the second it took to pull their tunics over their heads, hands roaming over lean bodies, pinching nipples, kneading pert breasts, until they were naked and panting. Anya trailed kisses down the brunette’s jaw, her neck, her clavicle, before taking a dark pink bud into her mouth and sucking on it.

“An,” Lexa sighed, hands lost in the blond hair, hesitating between keeping her in place and pushing her down where she needed her even more. She could feel both their cocks hard and hot against her skin, rubbing against each other, precum already leaking on her stomach. The decision was taken from her when Anya moved to lick at the other erect nub, while a long finger coated in saliva pressed against her puckered hole and entered her carefully. Once the slight burning feeling was gone, she nodded, needing more. The blonde moved back to her neck, nibbling at it to distract her from the second finger that found its way inside, working to relax the tight ring.

After a few minutes of these ministrations, the proud warrior couldn’t help the needy “Anya” that escaped her lips. This was the only situation she would ever be caught begging, and the one person she would plead with. With a grin, the blonde pulled herself up and sat on her heels, before lifting the strong legs and putting them around her neck. The lovers moaned in harmony when Anya entered the younger woman, taking her time so she wouldn’t unnecessarily hurt her.

“Move,” the brunette eventually growled, her eyes already rolling at the back of her head at the feeling of fulness. Not needing to be told twice, Anya began throwing her hips back and forth, eliciting whimpers of pleasure from the woman under her that turned into full groans when she started stroking her shaft. After a few minutes, the blonde could tell that the position was getting taxing for her cousin, and she rolled them over, bringing the brunette on top of her without unsheathing her cock.

Lexa, eyes closed in pleasure, began riding Anya in earnest, her callused hands fumbling the small breast underneath her. The blonde bit her lower lip, forcing herself not to release too early, but as soon as the princess of Phthia shuddered, she exploded inside of her with a cry.

Once they both came down from their high, Lexa pulled herself off the softening member, and lay next to the only woman she had ever given herself to. There were many words she wished to tell her, words she was hoping to hear as well, but as always, her lips remained close. Anya, understanding the silence and staring emerald eyes, caressed her cheek far more softly than their regular interactions were, and brought their lips together in a sweet kiss. Maybe words weren’t needed after all.

A week later, a chariot brought the princess of Mycenae, Iphigenia, Pike’s daughter, accompanied by her mother. The king had asked her to come under the pretense of marrying her to Lexa, who hadn’t been warned of the plot, but when the innocent girl arrived, he dragged her to the altar that had been set up, and after praying Artemis to forgive him, he slit her throat. The cries and supplications of her mother had done nothing to stop the mad king, and Anya had to physically remove Lexa from the scene before she sealed her fate by running the commander-in-chief through with her sword.

“Lexa,” she shouted, holding her cousin’s face between her hands, “Stop! It’s too late, it’s done. Don’t die for nothing.”

When the younger woman finally calmed down and agreed to return to their _pentekonter_ , she noticed that the wind had picked up, signaling the beginning of their expedition.

“There is no going back now,” she said grimly, before adding at Anya’s look of incomprehension, “none of us will return before this war is over, the gods saw to it. By making Pike sacrifice his daughter, they ensured his resolve. No matter how long it takes, Troy will fall, or we will all perish under its walls.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Selene = the personification of the moon as a goddess in the Greek mythology, sister to Helios, the sun.  
> a pentekonter = ancient Greek ship, with 50 oarsmen
> 
> According to the stories, either Agamemnon sacrificed his daughter, or Artemis rescued her at the last minute and left a deer to be killed in her place. Anyway, Agamemnon’s wife, Clytemnestra, was so angry at him that when he came back from Troy, she murdered him with the help of her lover. Nice family, right?...


	4. Chapter 4

Six weeks after Iphigenia’s sacrifice at the altar, the Achaean’s army passed by the island of Tenedos, their last stop before Troy. Crossing the Aegean Sea had taken them longer than planned, despite Poseidon’s clemency, and the Greeks couldn’t wait to disembark on the Trojan beach. The kings expected a ferocious welcome, as Marcus would certainly have heard of their coming. One could only hide a fleet of nearly 1,200 ships for so long, and as they passed by various kingdoms allied to the Trojans, they knew that some would send messengers to the fortress.

*****

In Troy, King Marcus assembled his council after hearing reports of the Achaean army that threatened to invade them. When his son Finn had brought back the queen of Sparta and claimed her as his wife, the old man had known that trouble would be upon them soon enough. Bellamy was more interested in battles and pleasing his brother than his wife, but no warrior, let alone a king, would ignore such dishonor lest his own men turned against him. Marcus had tried to send Helen back to her husband, but Finn was adamant; Aphrodite herself blessed their love, and no one could come between them. And once Jaha, the main priest of the nearby temple declared that the gods were on their side and that no mortal would ever break the city walls, there was no other choice than war.

The most prominent generals of Troy and their allies, as well as Roan, the crown prince, Finn, and some of their brothers were gathered in the war room of the palace, discussing their defense strategy. Finn suggested sending their own fleet to weaken the Greek armada, but most generals pointed out that it would be nothing more than a futile attempt that would cost many lives and barely slow their enemies down. Eventually, they all agreed that their best chance was to cut the Greeks down as they stepped onshore. Due to the size of their army, it would be impossible for them to land all at once, which allowed the Trojans to face smaller groups of invaders and pick them off one by one. Roan volunteered to lead the offensive with the majority of the army, giving the rest of the soldiers time to organize their defenses, and their allies a chance to make it to the city before it was under siege.

*****

When the first _pentekonters_ finally spotted the Trojan land, after a journey of almost seven weeks, an unspoken competition took place to be the one to claim the beach. The front rows of ships sped up, the soldiers excited to cover their _dorus_ and _xiphos_ with the blood of their enemies. The oarsmen gave everything they had, motivated by the promise of a substantial reward if their ship was the first onshore.

“Do you want to give the order to speed up Commander?” Indra asked her leader, her head bowed in respect.

“And tire our men before the battle? No. Let these idiots fight over their pride, we will be the ones claiming the beach,” the brunette replied, her features not betraying anything.

Not long later, the first Greek ships reached the coast, and Protesilaus, the leader of the Phylaceans, was the first man to step on the Trojan beach. The tall warrior, not waiting for the rest of his troops to disembark, ran towards the enemy soldiers, killing two before Roan pierced him with his spear. The first Greek had died, and now the war had truly begun.

The next hour was a blur of blood and cries of pain. The Trojan archers were mercilessly targeting the ships before they could land, and once they did, the soldiers ran them through with their spears. The Greeks, unable to organize themselves, lost more than one brave man that day.

“Myrmidons!” Lexa shouted as her _pentekonters_ were getting closer to the shore, “Shields!”

As one man, the soldiers from Phthia raised their large shields above their heads, protecting themselves and the people around them from the threatening arrows. Once the ships were aground, the Myrmidons jumped overboard, _dorus_ ready to strike. Remembering their numerous training sessions, they remained together, using their shields as cover against the Trojan projectiles.

“Archers!” Indra called, “Shoot!”

The hoplites moved their shields to the side just long enough for the Myrmidon archers to aim and release their arrows before bringing them back in place. The process had taken less than three seconds, and many Trojans now lay dead, the sand absorbing the blood from their bodies. They repeated it several times, their armored groups slowly gaining ground, keeping the enemies away with their spears before methodically shooting them down.

Lexa and Anya were each leading a contingent of soldiers, coordinating their efforts without needing to talk, used as they were to fight side by side. When the Trojans attempted to circle Anya’s battalion, Lexa’s came to the rescue and broke their ranks. And when a group of archers targeted Lexa’s with all their might, Anya’s men silenced them forever with well-placed arrows of their own.

The Trojans were losing the beach, meter by meter, but Prince Roan refused to retreat yet, taking advantage of the dispersed state of the Achaean army to inflict as many casualties as he could. The burly bearded man was bleeding from his left arm, where an arrow had struck him, but he could still wield his sword, and it was dripping with Greek blood. Following their prince’s orders, the Trojan cavalry that had been stationed at the back of some hills ran at full speed behind the Greek lines, decimating the archers that had managed to organize themselves and cutting the front line from the rest of the Achaean army that was still disembarking. Smiling at the success of the maneuver, Roan yelled to his men, “Charge!” and the soldiers began attacking their enemies with renewed vigor. Only the Myrmidons were holding their own, but even the mighty warriors couldn’t take on the entire Trojan army by themselves.

“Lexa!” Anya shouted at her cousin over the metallic noise of the spears and swords slamming against the shields, “we can’t continue like this. They are going to breach our wall eventually.”

The princess of Phthia clenched her jaw, knowing that her cousin was right. They had been lucky so far to lose very few soldiers, but they would all die if the situation dragged out for too long. The enemy cavalry continued to separate them from their reinforcement, and she needed to take them out.

“Myrmidons!” she shouted, “protect the incoming ships. Indra, you’re in charge! Anya, with me!”

And without waiting, the young brunette burst through the wall of shields, and threw her spear at the closest rider, impaling him. Running at full speed, she managed to bend low and grabbed another _doru_ before jumping on the back of the horse. A Trojan cavalier was close enough to attempt to strike her, but before he could lift his sword, Anya had run him through with her own.

“Damnit Lexa,” the blonde grumbled, jumping on the riderless horse, “you couldn’t wait for me, could you?”

Her cousin barely turned her head back to wink at her before she spurred her mount and took off at a gallop, knowing that the older woman would follow. While the rest of the Myrmidons put themselves between the ships and the Trojan army to give their comrades a chance to jump ashore, the two of them were running after the enemy cavalry, killing the riders one by one as they caught up with them. A couple of horsemen made the mistake to turn back and try to face them, Lexa threw her _doru_ at one and decapitated the other in a flash of metal. Lowering herself to the side, she caught a spear sticking out of the ground, and carried on. Behind her, Anya was covering her back and shooting arrows at the soldiers who came too close.

Prince Roan, seeing that more and more Greeks were stepping on his land and pushing back, was forced to order the retreat. His army would be safe behind the high walls, and they had achieved their goal: defend the beach for as long as possible, and make the Achaeans pay a heavy price for it. After collecting their wounded, the Trojan soldiers returned to the city in an orderly fashion. The Greeks, fully aware of the thousands of archers waiting for them to come close enough to pin them down, remained near their ships to celebrate their arrival.

Still on the horse that she had stolen, Anya approached her cousin, eyes roaming the lean body in search of wounds.

“You should get this checked,” she told her, pointing with her chin at the brunette’s left arm where an arrow had grazed her. “It would be silly to die from an infection on your first day.”

“I will once the others are treated. This can wait,” Lexa replied, heading towards the rest of their contingent. “Are you injured?”

“Nothing serious,” the blonde shrugged, showing her the shallow cut on one of her legs from a spear and her shoulder where the head of an arrow was still embedded.

“Get yourself checked up before you do anything else,” the younger woman told her sternly.

“Yes, Commander.”

Pike’s army began pitching their tents, unloading the _pentekonters,_ and burning their dead. The camp, once fully built, would stretch for miles, as the 100,000 men settled down. Not too far from where they had set foot on land, the Myrmidons finished their tasks in record time and sat around the fire pits to enjoy a well-deserved rest.

“Indra,” Lexa called, a makeshift bandage on her arm, “report.”

“We lost 56 men, Commander. Another 32 are being treated by Luna and the other healers right now, she is confident that most will survive.”

“Good. You did well, General. See to it that our men eat and rest early. The Trojans will certainly retaliate soon, while we are still recovering from our journey.”

“Us Myrmidons could fight for days on end,” the proud soldier replied, earning a small smile from her leader.

“I know, old friend. I know. You have your orders.”

The dark-skinned woman nodded and took her leave. She had been a constant in Lexa’s life since the princess was a child, teaching her war tactics and history when she was stationed near the palace. At almost 45, she had been contemplating retirement when the call for war arrived, but she decided to follow her dear Commander in battle one last time. Knowing that the campaign would be a long one, King Peleus had encouraged Lexa to choose a younger officer to lead her troupes, but apart from Anya, there was no one the brunette trusted more than Indra.

Opting to let her soldiers enjoy their first night on the Trojan land, Lexa retired to her tent after a frugal meal, stripping off her armor. She was about to clean herself with water and a cloth when Anya entered.

“How are you doing Lexa?” the blonde asked, taking the cloth in her hand and beginning to wash her lover’s tired body.

“I’m fine. Did you get your wounds checked?”

“I did. Today is not the day you’ll get rid of me, Cousin.”

“One can only hope,” Lexa replied with a playful grin, before kissing her gently, and then hard.

Once the two warriors were naked in bed, catching their breath after a round of lovemaking, Anya turned on her side to face the brunette, her hand caressing the arm closest to her.

“How long do you think we’ll be here?”

“No idea,” the younger woman answered. “The walls are high and strong. We can fight the Trojan army on the plain, but breaching into the city is another matter entirely. It will probably take us months, at least.”

And with that, the two of them fell asleep, unaware that it wouldn’t take months, but years for the Greek army to conquer the fortress called Troy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> doru = Greek spear  
> xiphos = short sword used as a secondary weapon by the hoplites
> 
> Next chapter: Clarke will appear 😁


	5. Chapter 5

Twelve months later, the situation hadn’t changed much, and the Greek army was becoming frustrated. They had expected a long siege, but their progress so far was minimal, and many soldiers were beginning to wonder if they would ever return home. They regularly fought the Trojan army, but they had yet to get near the walls. Every time they moved closer to the city, the enemies pushed them back a few days later. The two sides, pretty equally matched, were in a stalemate that threatened to last until the last warrior dropped dead. Many contingents had begun to farm the claimed land to support themselves, and complained that they hadn’t crossed the sea just to settle in a foreign country.

To weaken Troy and cut it from its allies as much as possible, since the city was too large to be surrounded, Pike and his generals decided at the end of the first year to send troops to the neighboring islands and kingdoms and conquer them. The Greeks would then benefit from more lands and resources, hopefully giving them an edge over their opponents.

Leaving Indra in charge of the majority of the Myrmidons that remained in the Greek camp, Lexa and Anya, officiating as general too, took turns leading small expeditions that burned and pillaged the neighboring cities. They mercilessly killed any man who dared to fight them, but contrary to Pike and his lackeys, Lexa ordered the proud men from Phthia to spare anyone who surrendered. There was no honor in killing defenseless opponents in her book, and they could be used as slaves or sold for coins. Furthermore, she expressly forbade her warriors from hurting or raping the women they encountered.

While Lexa opted to lead a raid on Adramytium, a city located on the coast, a few days southeast of Troy, Anya decided to push further east, all the way to Lyrnessus. The town, located in the province of Dardania, in Asia Minor, was not the biggest around, but it was home to a large temple dedicated to Apollo that was sure to contain many riches.

After riding for a few days, the Myrmidons established a camp in the forest near the city, hidden by the trees and thick bushes. The blonde sent a few men to scout the perimeter and take note of the city’s soldiers while the rest of them prepared a light dinner in the prevision of the attack the following day.

“Lincoln, report,” she asked a dark-skinned muscular man when he returned from his mission.

“General, I saw about 20 soldiers patrolling the city. There are another 10 near the main street that leads to the temple.”

“Weapons?”

“Mostly hoplites with _dorus_ and _xiphos_. I counted four archers, three patrolling, one at the gate,” the shaved-head man replied immediately.

“Well done, Lincoln,” the lean woman replied. “Rest now, we will attack before sunrise.”

“Yes, General.”

Anya let the scout head towards the camp, and remained at the edge of the forest, hidden by the vegetation. The warrior had fought many battles in her relatively short life, and the anticipation had never troubled her before. But that particular night, waiting for the sky to lighten and the stars to dim, the blonde couldn’t sleep. Instead of turning and turning on her blanket, she stayed there, observing the town that would awake soon to the noise of their attack. It wasn’t fortified like Troy. The city didn’t have high walls, the houses and buildings delimiting the periphery were clearly visible, making an invasion much easier. The main risk was for the enemies to spot them and raise the alarm. Though, if Anya had to guess, most of the citizens were probably hidden inside Troy’s walls by now, and only a small troop was left to protect the temple and those who had chosen to remain.

An hour before sunrise, the Myrmidons, adorning their characteristic face paint, quietly made their way closer to the sleepy city, ready to strike. Upon Anya’s order, 20 arrows flew high in the sky, silencing the guards at the door forever, each with 2 arrows deeply embedded in him. The shots had been so precise that javelins weren’t even needed to finish their enemies.

The contingents of warriors ran to the pillars delimiting the main street, keeping an eye on the corners in case the patrol was coming back. When they didn’t hear any sound, the blonde nodded to her men, pointing in two directions with her fingers. The Myrmidons separated into two groups of equal forces, ready to hunt the remaining soldiers. As Lincoln had indicated, they saw 20 men walking down the dirt roads, their _xiphos_ at their side and their _dorus_ resting on a shoulder, blissfully oblivious to the danger lurking.

The group led by Anya sneaked behind them, hidden by the various constructions around, while the archers took position a few dozen meters ahead. Once they were ready, the general and two of her most trusted men approached the patrol stealthily and grabbed the last row, a hand firmly pressed on their mouths while they slid their throats with sharp daggers. The men didn’t have time to muffle a sound that the light in their eyes had disappeared. The three of them quietly pulled the bodies to hide them behind houses, in case a civilian woke up and wanted to go for a night stroll, while three other soldiers repeated their actions. They managed to kill nine enemies that way before one of them, gurgling, alerted the rest of his comrades. Before they could point their spears at the strong warriors who had sneaked up on them like ghosts, the assassins ran the closest ones through with their swords while the archers took care of the others. The whole operation had taken less than 2 minutes, and now the 20 men were dead, and the Myrmidons hadn’t lost a single soul. It had been noisier than the general would have liked, but the inhabitants of Lyrnessus seemed to be heavy sleepers, as none of them came out to check on the disturbance.

After hiding the bodies, Anya and her men hurried towards the temple of Apollo, located at the center of the town. Despite the relatively modest size of the city, the religious building was imposing. The columns rose several meters above ground, supporting the triangular roof decorated with a large fresco above the entrance. Not one to fear the gods’ wrath, the blonde nodded at her soldiers, and they discreetly pushed the door open, slipping inside, six men remaining outside to cover their exit.

The inside was even more magnificent. The walls were covered with draperies and small altars displaying foods and riches. At the back of the temple, a large statue of Apollo, recognizable with his lyre and bow, took center stage. At its feet, many offerings had been placed by the god’s servants and the believers. As the sun hadn’t risen yet over the horizon, the temple was mostly deserted, apart from an old priest and a couple of maidens in charge of cleaning the temple and welcoming the visitors. The Myrmidons subdued them easily, but following Anya’s orders, they didn’t hurt them. There was no point in killing an old unarmed man, and the two young women could fetch a good price at the slave market. Not to mention that they didn’t want to risk angering Apollo more by killing his servants.

While the rest of her men were pillaging the temple and collecting the offerings that they could take with them, Anya decided to explore the building further, and found herself in front of a small door on the side. Opening it carefully, she entered a small room with cots rolled on the side, and no windows. It seemed to be where the temple maidens slept, and as the room had no decoration or valuable object, the warrior turned around. She had almost made it out when a blade came rushing towards her. If not for her lightspeed reflexes, the knife would have embedded itself in her neck instead of nicking the door. Scowling, she jumped around, ready to face the fool who had tried to kill her. She had expected a soldier hidden in the temple, or a young apprentice, and her jaw fell open at the sight that greeted her.

The girl standing in front of her wasn’t even 20. Her face had kept some of its childish roundness, making her look a year or two younger than Lexa. Despite the modesty of her outfit, a long shapeless white dress that revealed very little of her body, the young woman was beautiful. Breathtakingly so. For a second, the general thought she had found herself face-to-face with Helen, disguised and hidden, until she remembered that the queen of Sparta was at least a few years older than this girl. Her long wavy hair, though it could use a wash, was so blonde it looked golden in the candlelight. Her deep blue eyes, staring resolutely at the soldier despite her erratic breathing, reminded Anya of the sky not long after the sunset. A beauty mark stood above her pink lips, and the general wondered for a second how it would feel to kiss them. Probably wonderful, if she didn’t fear the girl would stab her as soon as she got closer, and Lexa would skin her alive. Her cousin adamantly refused to admit it, but she could be very possessive, and more than one woman in Phthia had received a threatening glare for coming too close to Anya in the tavern or on the streets.

“Who are you?” the maiden asked, her raspy voice shaking Anya out of her daze and igniting a fire in her groin.

“Anya of Phthia, general of the Myrmidons,” she replied proudly. “Put your weapon down and I will not hurt you.”

“What will you do to me? Why are you here? This is a place of worship; we are not soldiers.”

“We came for the riches of this temple, not to kill you.”

“Maybe you won’t kill us, but you will sell us away, right?” The Myrmidon’s silence was answer enough, and the young blonde seethed with anger, her knuckles turning white. “I will not be sold as a slave to be disgraced by a pig of a man.”

Anya had expected the girl to launch at her again, which was why she nearly didn’t catch her in time when the younger blonde turned the knife towards her own stomach instead. Luckily, a life of training and battles had honed her reflexes, and she caught the slender wrist before the blade could do more than nick at the skin. What she hadn’t seen coming, however, was the maiden’s right hand that punched her in the jaw in retaliation. The hit didn’t hurt much, as the girl was untrained and left-handed, but the general growled in anger before twisting both of the blonde’s arms behind her back, making her drop the knife in the process.

“Don’t,” she warned, their bodies close enough that she could have counted the flakes of gold in the sapphire eyes. She could have sworn the girl’s breath caught and her pupils grew wider at their proximity, but it was probably a reaction of fear. Not wanting to stay too long in the temple, she dragged the girl with her back to the main room, and tied her arms behind her back with a rope.

Having collected everything they could and secured the three other maidens they planned to sell or keep as slaves, the Myrmidons left the temple, its priest tied up near the statue of the god who had ignored his pleas for help.

Anya was pushing her prisoner in front of her, one hand firmly holding the tied wrists. Before the girl could get any ideas, she whispered in her ear, “I won’t hurt you. But if you call for help, we will massacre anyone who stands in our way. Do you understand?” The young blonde didn’t reply or nod, but she remained quiet, which was enough. In a last show of defiance, however, she slowed her pace down, forcing Anya to push her more and more, until she lost patience and threw the girl over her shoulder.

Once the Myrmidons had returned to the cover of the forest, they packed the rest of their camp, and prepared themselves for the ride back to Troy. The blonde prisoner hadn’t said a word to her captor, silently glaring at the foreign soldiers while they rolled their blankets and jumped on their horses’ backs. Eventually, Anya approached her and hauled her back on her feet and onto a large dappled stallion.

“You will ride with me. Try anything and I’ll tie you to Balius’s saddle and drag you all the way to Troy,” the blonde general warned after taking place on the horse, behind her prisoner.

For a split second, the young woman considered headbutting the arrogant warrior and hopefully throwing her down her stallion. But the threat sounded genuine, and she knew that, hungry as she was and with her run-down sandals, she would never survive the long walk. She would just have to bide her time and wait for a chance to run away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apollo temple Delphi reconstitution: This temple was located in Delphi, so if there was one in Lyrnessus, it wouldn't have looked like this, but I wanted to give you an idea of what I was imagining.  
> https://global-geography.org/attach/Geography/Europe/Greece/Pictures/Delphi/Apollo_Temple_Delphi_Reconstruction/B047_Apollontempel_Rekonstruktion_Apollontempel_Rekonstruktion.jpg
> 
> Balius and Xanthus: Achilles’s mythical immortal horses. I chose to add them to the story and have Anya ride one of them, though they would be mortal in this story


	6. Chapter 6

The group of Myrmidons that had attacked Lyrnessus, returning victorious, was meant to meet with Lexa’s troops not far from Adramytium. The journey took them most of the day, as no one was following them out of revenge, they didn’t want to press their horses.

The blonde prisoner hadn’t said a single word to Anya since they had left the temple, she simply looked at her with daggers in her eyes every time they took a break. The tall warrior had found it annoying at first, considering that she had spared the girl’s life when she could have killed her, but after a few hours, she was merely amused by the maiden’s spirit. Despite being the captive of one of the strongest Greek warriors, weaponless and untrained, with her hands still bound, the blonde refused to back down or show submission. The other young women captured at the temple seemed to accept their fate; they kept their heads down and didn’t meet the Myrmidons’ eyes, but this one was a spitfire. Anya wondered how someone so headstrong had become the servant of a god.

The night was almost upon them when they finally heard the sound of hooves and metal characteristic of a group of soldiers. Spurring her horse, the general led her men towards the noise, happy to find her cousin unharmed. The brunette raised an eyebrow in question when she spotted the blonde sitting atop of her general’s horse, her hands tied behind her back, but didn’t comment on it. The two groups, now reunited and wanting to put more distance between them and the cities they had just pillaged, continued their journey towards Troy in silence for a couple of hours.

The moon was already high in the sky when Lexa lifted a fist in the air to stop her soldiers and ordered them to set up camp for the night. Anya jumped down her horse, offering to help her prisoner, but the girl ignored the hand and let herself slide along the saddle. Despite her best efforts, her legs didn’t land straight, and she would have fallen to her side if the soldier hadn’t caught her in her strong arms.

“Do you have to be so stubborn?” Anya grumbled, her eyes rolling in their orbits.

The maiden didn’t say a word, simply shoving the general to the side with her shoulder before sitting by the fire, her eyes burning with anger. The tall blonde sighed in annoyance at the childish display, before noticing Lexa’s green orbs on her, a look of confusion and something else — jealousy maybe? — on her face. Anya knew that she had to be careful about how she played her hand, or her cousin wouldn’t hesitate to gut the girl. Why did she even care about what happened to a foreign prisoner? The soldier shook her head at herself, and sat on a flat rock, enjoying the piece of meat one of her men had given her.

Once the soldiers had eaten and began to lie down to sleep or take position in a large circle to protect their comrades, Lexa approached the strange captive, curious to know why Anya was treating her differently.

“What’s your name?” she asked curtly while staring at the blonde. She had to admit, though she had had a long day and needed a bath, the girl was absolutely beautiful. Lost in thoughts, the brunette didn’t notice immediately that the blonde had purely and simply ignored her. Once she did, she repeated her question in a colder voice, but the girl seemed impervious to the threat.

“Do you know who I am?” Lexa growled, irritated at the lack of respect coming from a mere prisoner, a future slave.

“A killer and a thief, like the rest of the Greek army,” the blonde spat, causing the warrior to raise her eyebrows in surprise. She had to give her that, the maiden was brave. Or foolish. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Anya shake her head, clearly expecting Lexa to lose her temper and strike the insolent across the face. Instead, she opted for a different method, for now.

“I am Lexa of Phthia, Commander of the Myrmidons.”

The prisoner clenched her jaw to mask her surprise, but if the brunette’s smirk was any indication, she had failed to conceal it completely. She had heard of Lexa, everyone had on either side of the Aegean Sea, she was considered the greatest warrior that had ever lived. When she looked at the almond-eyed woman sitting next to her, she realized that she should have connected the dots sooner. Though not as famous as her cousin, Anya of Phthia also had quite the reputation as a fighter and general. How was she going to escape her two formidable enemies?

“Will you tell me your name now?”

The blonde cocked her head to the side, staring at the woman towering over her. She had heard tales of the warrior’s conquests and thirst for blood, her commanding presence was undeniable, and yet the maiden didn’t feel like her life was in danger. The brunette was looking at her with curiosity, like the lean blonde had done after capturing her, as if she was a puzzle sent by the gods to elucidate. Deciding that antagonizing them more might not be in her best interest, the young woman eventually unclenched her jaw.

“Clarke.”

“Klark,” the warrior repeated, testing the foreign name that rolled off her tongue. An original name for an intriguing girl. She was beginning to see why her cousin had pulled the girl aside instead of tying her with the others. Talking about Anya, when she turned her attention to the tall woman, she noticed the bruise on her jaw in the flame light.

“What happened to your face?” Lexa asked.

“I punched her,” Clarke replied, her head held high in a challenge.

Anya was worried her cousin would hurt the girl in retaliation, but instead, she jerked her head around at the sound of Lexa’s laugh, such a rarity she had barely recognized it at first.

“She—this girl, a maiden of Apollo, managed to hit you in the face?” the brunette wheezed, convulsed with laughter. “Maybe I should let her replace you and lead the troops, don’t you think?”

“Well, she tried to stab herself and—she caught me by surprise,” the proud general grumbled, the tip of her ears reddening. Luckily for her, most of the Myrmidons were sitting at a distance, giving them privacy, and though they seemed confused, they couldn’t have heard the reason for her sudden hilarity.

“Why would you try to kill yourself?” Lexa asked the younger woman, surprised at that information, and slightly concerned, though she had no idea why she cared. Would the girl try again if she got the chance?

“Because I would rather die than be subjected to the vile hands of a man,” the blonde growled, anger back in her eyes. “I know what soldiers like you do to their prisoners.”

“We don’t,” Anya intervened, offended at the implication. “Myrmidons are under strict order never to rape a prisoner, man or woman. Anyone who disobeys will be castrated on the spot.”

The maiden raised her eyebrows at that new information. She had expected the general to let her soldiers have their way with her once they made it out of Lyrnessus, and had been surprised when the tall warrior had made her ride on her own horse, protecting her from the others. Her life had taught her that most men were nothing more than beasts to fear, who would try to take advantage of her if they could. Maybe these soldiers were different? They were led by women after all; surely those two proud warriors were telling the truth and wouldn’t let men sexually assault her.

The Commander apparently sensed her doubts and hesitation, as she added in a kind voice, “You can sleep, Klark. We still have a long ride ahead before we return to Troy. You have nothing to fear from my men, and Anya and I will stay nearby.”

The young blonde was too proud to thank her captors, but she acknowledged the comment with a nod, and lay on her side. Morpheus claimed her in a matter of minutes, exhausted as she was after the events of the day.

The following two days were indeed tiring for people that lacked the intense training of the Myrmidons. They rode from dawn till dusk, taking only short breaks to relieve themselves and let the horses rest. Clarke could barely feel her legs. She had been riding with Lexa and Anya alternatively, and though she was doing her best to ignore them, she had to admit she was grateful for the special treatment they offered her. Her hands were still tied, probably out of fear she would hurt herself otherwise, but they were now in front of her instead of behind her back, making the position much more comfortable. The two warriors had made sure not to leave her alone, sensing that she was wary of the other Myrmidons, and particularly of the men.

The young blonde was presently riding in front of Anya, and the steady walk was rocking her. Her eyelids were feeling heavier and heavier, her head wobbled at the pace of the horse’s steps. She would probably have fallen if not for the strong arms circling her waist. Struggling to stay awake, she didn’t notice that the back of her head was now resting against the chocolate-eyed woman, in the crook of the slender neck, and fell asleep.

The general was remaining immobile, not wanting to wake the girl, all while looking at her cousin anxiously. The two of them had taken turns keeping an eye on the maiden without needing to discuss it first, but she still wondered how long it would take for the brunette to feel jealous. To her surprise, when she noticed Lexa looking at them, the green-eyed woman was sporting a discreet smile, not bothered at all. Anya brought her mount closer to her cousin’s to initiate the conversation they had been avoiding ever since they had reunited near Adramytium.

“Something on your mind general?” Lexa asked with a pointed look, keeping her voice low enough not to wake the blonde.

The warrior bit her lips, not sure how to express what was on her mind without risking angering her lover. They were faithful to one another, despite never making promises or exchanging words of love, and she didn’t understand why she was suddenly attracted to the young woman lying on her chest. She knew that Lexa had shared her bed with a couple of other women in the past, but that hadn’t happened in years, and she was worried about opening Pandora’s box.

“Anya, talk to me,” the brunette insisted, frowning at her cousin’s hesitation.

“I don’t want to sell her to the slave merchants,” the dirty-blonde haired woman blurted out. “She will kill herself, I have no doubt, and it—”

“It would be a shame,” Lexa finished, earning a nod from her general.

The brunette sighed before adding, “She is something, I give you that. I will decide her fate once we are back at the camp.”

The following morning, the troop finally reached the periphery of the Greek camp, and made its way towards the rest of the Myrmidons. Clarke was riding in front of Lexa, her body, too tired to stand straight, heavily leaning against the green-eyed warrior’s chest. She had feared the woman’s reaction, but the Commander hadn’t commented on it, and simply tilted her head to the side so she could see around the blond hair that tickled her nose. When she spotted the high walls of the city, the maiden mumbled to herself, “I didn’t think I’d ever be back here,” forgetting their closeness.

“You have been to Troy before?” Lexa inquired, surprised.

“I—I was born in Troy. I left it two years ago to become a servant of Apollo,” the girl reluctantly admitted, not wanting to share her past with her captor.

The brunette understood that there was more to the story, but seeing how hostile and stubborn the prisoner could be, she decided not to press the matter any further for now. She tightened her arms around the blonde’s waist, and pressed her horse, looking forward to a long bath in the privacy of her tent. She enjoyed the warmth of the girl’s body against hers, her dress offering a meager separation between them. On more than one occasion, Lexa had felt her cock stirring under her tunic at the proximity of the round bottom, and she had to bite her lips to stop it from growing hard. Based on what the maiden had said, she was pretty sure that the girl hated men, and the feeling of a strained member against her backside would certainly not be a welcome one. Groaning internally, the warrior wondered, once again, who this young woman was and how she had managed to put a spell on her and her cousin so quickly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Morpheus = the god of sleep and dreams


	7. Chapter 7

The Myrmidons welcomed their Commander and general with enthusiastic smiles, delighted to see them return victorious, and with spoils. Although Lexa was forced to let Pike take part of the riches, and a maiden by the name of Chryseis, she made sure the rest would be sold or exchanged for things that would ease her men’s daily life. Blankets, thicker tents, new armors were always needed during a campaign as long as this one.

Once they were inside the Myrmidons’ part of the camp, Lexa untied the young blonde’s wrists. Clarke could still feel her anger boil at the back of her throat, but surrounded as she was by thousands of soldiers faithful to her captor, she wouldn't take more than two steps before being subdued if she tried to escape. She considered stealing the knife resting on the brunette’s thigh, but the woman would certainly catch her hand before she could inflict any real damage, and even if she did, she shuddered at the thought of what the Myrmidons would do to her in retaliation. To her surprise, the two warriors let her have some food and kept her near them during the celebration; so, when midday came and they retired to their tents, Clarke followed them without question. Inside their private quarters and away from prying eyes, Lexa and Anya were free to relax a little, foregoing their straight backs and emotionless faces. Clarke was standing awkwardly near the entrance, unsure what to do or say to the two women who began untying their armors.

“You will sleep here,” Lexa told her while pointing at a corner on the side of the main room. “I’ll have some furs brought in.”

“I am staying here?” the blonde inquired, her eyebrows raising in surprise. She had expected the two warriors to sell her to the merchants, or gift her to other kings like her companion Chryseis.

“Yes.”

“And what do you want from me then?”

“You will clean our armors and clothes, help us bathe, those sorts of things,” the princess of Phthia replied, having made her decision after talking with her lover. “When we are not here, you will make sure this tent remains clean and in order.”

“So, I will be your slave? Your servant?” Clarke asked, barely holding the snark in her voice.

“You used to attend a god, I’m sure two mere mortals won’t give you much trouble,” the general teased, a corner of her mouth pulled in a smirk. Truth be told, the warrior was delighted that her cousin had decided to keep the blonde with them. She had been worried Lexa would choose to send the tantalizing beauty away from them, despite the brunette’s obvious attraction.

“I never had to bathe his statue,” the blonde grumbled, making the two lovers discreetly chuckle.

“I am sure you will do fine Klark,” Lexa replied, not unkindly. “We have men in charge of fetching the water already, you will only have to help us wash. In fact, I could use a bath right now.”

When the men that Lexa had sent to collect water returned, Clarke began the task of warming it with hot stones. It took longer than any of them would have liked, giving the new servant time to help the warriors out of their armors and leave them in their _chitons_ , but the water eventually reached a comfortable enough temperature.

Nobility obliges, Lexa was the first one to remove her garment and step towards the large bronze tub, causing Clarke to gasp. The brunette turned her head and noticed the blonde looking at her with fear and curiosity, her hand over her mouth to cover further sounds.

“You—you were blessed by both Hermes and Aphrodite,” Clarke commented, her jaw still hanging and a red hue spreading on her cheeks at the sight of Lexa’s penis.

“Yes. Is that something uncommon in this part of the world?” Lexa inquired.

“It—Yes, I have never heard of anyone like you in Troy or the neighboring cities.”

“I see. No one really knows why, but it is quite common in Phthia.”

Clarke turned her head towards the blonde general, unable to contain her curiosity. The tall warrior nodded once, confirming that she too was blessed with male genitals, before stepping forward, her hands up in a display of non-aggression when she sensed the maiden’s unease.

“You have nothing to fear from us Klark,” she reassured the girl, who looked about ready to bolt out of the tent. “What we told you before still stands. Nobody will force themselves on you here, not even Lexa or myself.”

The blonde didn’t seem convinced, but her hands stopped trembling when she grabbed a cloth to help the Commander get rid of most of the dirt and mud on her before she could enter the tub. She did it as fast as possible, all while staying away from the woman’s groin. Anya, who looked at the scene with interest, had difficulties holding in the smirk that threatened to show at the display of awkwardness, both from Clarke and from Lexa. As the princess and Commander of the Myrmidons, the brunette usually radiated strength and confidence, and during their private interactions, she often proved herself to be dominant and assertive. And yet, at that moment, the naked woman reminded her of the teenager she had once been, unsure and shy.

Once Lexa had entered the tub, the water raising until her shoulders, she leaned her head against the warm metal and closed her eyes. In any other situation, she wouldn’t let her guard down in the presence of a captive and possible enemy, but the brunette did not doubt that Anya would protect her. Besides, the maiden was unarmed, and short of trying to drown her, she didn’t present much of a threat. With those thoughts in mind, Lexa let the tiredness in her bones slowly dissipate, and enjoyed the relaxing moves of the soap and cloth against her skin.

Clarke washed the warrior’s body as quickly as possible, doing her best to avoid any sensitive areas and to stare anywhere other than at the green-eyed woman’s face. Once her surprise had passed, she had been unable to stop her eyes from roaming all over the Commander’s body. A life of training and war had left a certain number of scars on her, but it also made her look like she had been sculpted by the gods. Her shoulders were larger than those of most women without being disproportionate, her pert breast, adorning dark pink stiff buttons, made the blonde subconsciously lick her lips. The abdominal muscles and the V-shaped stomach would have made more than one man envious, and her long legs seemed to go on for days. The blonde made valiant efforts to ignore the appendage resting at the apex of the woman’s thighs, torn between the disgust it usually inspired her and the mild heat it was causing at the pit of her stomach.

Once she was done with her bath, the brunette stood, in all her glory, and let Clarke dry her with a clean cloth. The blonde patted her left arm first, then the right, before moving down her torso and back. When she kneeled to take care of the lean legs dripping with water, Lexa, feeling her cock stir at the position, bit her lips to stifle a groan. _So much for trying not to scare the maiden_ , she berated herself, as her stubborn member began to fill itself with blood, standing prouder and prouder.

“I believe it’s my turn,” Anya cut in, sensing a shift in the mood and her cousin’s embarrassment. Without wasting a second, she pulled her _chiton_ over her long hair, and stood by the tub for Clarke to clean her, leaving Lexa to dress alone. Though she was once again faced with a naked warrior sporting a penis, the young servant seemed grateful not to be on her knees anymore, and diligently washed the general’s body and hair.

After disappearing in the bedroom part of the tent, separated from the main one by a curtain, to compose herself, Lexa returned wrapped in a light tunic, and waited for Anya to dress.

“We have matters to attend with the troops,” she said, looking at the blue eyes that defiantly stared back. “You should make use of the tub too. Don’t worry, apart from Anya and myself, no one will enter this tent without being invited.”

And with that, the two cousins pushed the opening aside, and exited, leaving the blonde alone. Clarke looked around, considering her options. A few weapons were lying on the ground, but she knew that she didn’t stand a chance against the well-trained Myrmidons. Nobody would stop her from taking her own life this time, and yet she found herself strangely reluctant. Despite the situation, the two women had been kind to her, and seemed to want her to stay as a servant. If things changed, she could always revisit that possibility, but for now, they weren’t as dire as she had feared they would be. She nonetheless hid a small knife under a pot on the side that the Commander had assigned to her, for reassurance, if nothing else. After considering not bathing out of fear to be walked on, she decided that a wash was long overdue, and opted for rubbing her body with a wet cloth, her old dress remaining on her at all times.

The following couple of weeks saw some sort of routine settle inside the tent. In the morning, Clarke would help the warriors dress before they ate breakfast with their men. She cleaned their quarters and collected their food while the two cousins trained. After lunch, unless they were called to the battlefront, the women would inspect their troops and deal with any issue that might arise, and the blonde took the opportunity to rest, bathe and clean their armors. After dinner, Lexa and Anya would take turns in the tub, helped by the maiden who had more and more difficulties averting her eyes from their naked forms. Neither of them mentioned the lingering sexual tension, which led the two lovers to fuck hard almost every night to chase their release while Clarke pretended to be asleep.

One evening, her curiosity got the better of her, and the blonde quietly crossed the main room of the tent to approach the curtain separating it from the sleeping area. She had been listening to the two warriors kissing and moaning for 30 minutes, a hand caressing her breast and stiff nipples, but it wasn’t enough anymore. She wanted to _see_ them, observe how they pleasured each other, admire their sweaty naked bodies rubbing against each other. Holding her breath, the maiden pushed the curtain a few inches aside with a trembling hand, and looked inside the room.

The atmosphere was stuffy, due to the several candles lighting the room and the physical activities that were being exerted. Anya was on her back, lying on a bed of furs, her legs open and wrapped at the ankles around Lexa’s neck. The brunette was pounding into her lover at a relentless pace, eyes closed in pleasure, beads of sweat rolling down her temples and neck, her perky breast shaking with the moves of her hips. Every few moments, the blonde underneath her would moan, encouraging the other woman to keep going, faster, harder, to give her everything she had.

Clarke kept her mouth open at the display of bestiality, and yet clear trust between the warriors. Men’s weakness for the carnal pleasures normally caused her only disdain and apprehension, but the scene taking place in front of her was eliciting a much more interesting reaction. She felt her own sex grow wetter, heat pooling between her thighs, and the blonde had to bite her lips to hold a whimper when her left hand found its way under her dress, all the way to her slit.

Having joined Apollo’s service at 16, she hadn’t had many occasions to touch herself. The maidens were supposed to remain pure and chaste, and the proximity of her companions in their shared room at the back of the temple had made it nearly impossible for her to discover her body. And yet, as if guided by a primal instinct, her fingers were moving of their own accord, dipping into the wetness, dragging it to the nub above it. Her knees almost buckled when her index and middle finger passed over it, pleasure shooting from her toes all the way to her head. She had to force herself to slow down, and take deep breaths, lest she would collapse there and then.

Her right hand hovered above her chest, kneading at the soft flesh and rubbing the peaked nipples through her thin garment, while the other one began to move more purposefully. When her middle finger went in, almost by accident, a low groan escaped her wet lips. The warmth and moisture were more pronounced than she expected, and her walls fluttered at the intrusion, rhythmically clamping on herself. Driven by instinct, she started to push the finger in and out of her cunt, following the pace at which Lexa was still moving her hips, imagining what it would be to have the warrior’s cock inside her. When the brunette let out a howl, Anya canting her hips at the feeling of her own orgasm, Clarke was almost swept off her feet by the snap of her body, and she barely managed to stay upright. When her blue eyes opened again, stars dancing at the back of her mind, she found herself staring right into green orbs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hermaphroditus was the son of Aphrodite and Hermes in the Greek mythology, and possessed an androgynous form with both male and female sexual characteristics (usually portrayed in the arts as a female figure with male genitals). The word “hermaphrodite” is derived from his name.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter you've all been waiting for...

Several weeks had passed since the evening Clarke had watched the two warriors have sex, and they had yet to talk about it. The cousins could sense the young blonde’s curiosity and interest but, true to their word, they weren’t pressuring her into anything, and the maiden still hadn’t made a move. She helped them bathe and rubbed their flesh with more care than before, and they often noticed her stares at their naked bodies, but Clarke remained conflicted and kept her hands away from the objects of her desire. What they couldn’t know was that, at night, the former Trojan touched herself every time she could hear the lovers being intimate, imagining how it would feel to be the one writhing underneath them, and that she had to bite her furs to stop herself from calling their names when she climaxed.

One afternoon, the Myrmidons were out fighting against the enemy army, as they did every few days, when Clarke heard shouts and steps getting closer to the tent. She barely had enough time to push the entrance flap aside that Lexa barged in, followed by three soldiers carrying a pale Anya.

“What happened?” the blonde asked, taking in the sight in front of her.

“She is injured,” Lexa replied pointing at the black arrow shaft protruding from her cousin’s side. “Call a healer!”

“Start boiling some water, and bring me sharp knives, a thread, a needle, and clean cloths,” the maiden ordered the soldiers, before adding when she noticed the brunette’s confusion, “I trained as a healer during my time at the temple. Let me help. Please.”

The princess of Phthia nodded, and stepped aside to allow Clarke and the Myrmidons’ main healer, Luna, to work. The process was daunting, and though it was far from being Anya’s first injury, or her own, Lexa gritted her teeth while she watched the pair work. The arrow was deeply embedded, but it hadn’t transpierced the warrior’s chest, making it more difficult to remove it. Once the soldiers held down the general so she couldn’t move and aggravate her wound, Clarke was forced to enlarge it with a knife, making Anya scream in pain. After a few tense minutes, the blonde managed to extract the arrowhead, which turned out to be raven black, like the rest of the projectile that had missed the dirty-blonde haired woman’s heart by a few centimeters only. Luckily, it seemed to have also missed the other major organs, and as long as the wound didn’t get infected, Anya would recover. By the time Clarke was done suturing the angry red flesh and wrapping it tightly, the general was passed out, and the soldiers left the tent to give their Commander some privacy.

“She will be fine,” the maiden told Lexa, noticing her standing up in the corner with her green eyes fixed on her lover, “she is strong and didn’t lose too much blood.”

“Thank you, Klark,” the woman replied, a deep sigh leaving her lips. The blonde didn’t feel the need to say more, and put a hand on the older woman’s arm, squeezing it once reassuringly, before exiting the room too.

The following two weeks witnessed some changes in the trio’s dynamics. Anya, unable to stand or fight, remained in bed most of the time, and she would have gone stir-crazy without the blonde’s kindness and devotion. Clarke nursed her without complaints, cleaning and redressing the wound several times a day, helping her wash and eat. Though Lexa couldn’t spend her days with them as she wanted, the leader made sure to show Anya her support, and Clarke her gratitude.

One late afternoon, the maiden was cleaning the naked body of the general with a wet cloth, holding back a smile at the sight of the dark brown eyes growing sleepier and sleepier. She was nearly done when Anya started to stand to attention. Or at least, part of her body did. In her half-awake state, the dirty-blonde haired woman didn’t seem to notice, but her member, that had been resting flaccidly against her left thigh for the previous 15 minutes, grew until it was proudly erect against her lower stomach. The display, though perfectly natural, elicited a conflicting reaction in Clarke, who found herself both shy and aroused. With her tongue subconsciously poking out from her mouth, she failed to detect the presence of a shadow who sneaked behind her.

Lexa had spent the afternoon with Indra discussing strategies and resources. With Anya incapacitated, the dark-skinned woman had her hands full with the training of the soldiers, and the Commander was doing her best to deal with the other issues. After almost 18 months away from their homeland, frustrations and tensions were running high in the Greek camp. Only the strict Myrmidon’s discipline prevented further shows of discontentment like the other contingents had witnessed. Tired of talking and hearing the same things over and over, the brunette had returned to her tent, unaware of the sight that would greet her. Her cousin, naked, was seemingly asleep, and very much enjoying the maiden’s attention if the state of her cock was anything to go by. But what surprised and excited her the most was Clarke’s reaction. The blonde, far from showing repulsion, seemed flushed, staring at the now fully engorged mast. And when she licked her lips, Lexa lost all pretenses of temperance, and put her hand on the girl’s shoulder.

“I—I’m sorry,” Clarke stuttered, the green eyes almost overtaken by the black pupils scaring her, “I meant no disrespect.”

“Do you want her?” the brunette asked, her voice raspy and lower than usual.

“Yes,” the blonde whispered, blushing at her own admission.

“Do you want me?”

Clarke couldn’t muster an answer this time, as she bit her lips in a vain attempt to calm herself, but she nodded nonetheless. Despite her hesitations, the pent-up sexual attraction of the previous weeks was catching up with her, and she didn’t find it in herself to deny the obvious anymore. She liked the two beautiful warriors who, contrary to what she had first feared, had shown her patience and kindness; more than most people in her hometown had. She liked them and, if they wanted her, she would be theirs. Based on the Commander’s smile, it had been the answer she hoped for. Lexa sat behind the maiden, her chest and groin flushed against Clarke’s back, arms circling her.

“It’s OK,” the brunette murmured in her ear, letting the blonde rest her head back on her muscular shoulder. “I’ll show you what she likes.”

When long fingers wrapped against hers, gently pulling them towards the general’s nether region, Clarke shivered but didn’t stop. Lexa guided her hands to Anya’s knees, encouraging her to caress the skin there, before slowly going up, following the strong thighs covered with thin blond hair. Once their hands reached the apex of the legs, the brunette placed one of Clarke’s palms on the hard member, showing her how to rub it up and down.

“It’s harder than I expected,” she admitted, her blue orbs unmoving from the patch of coarse blond hair facing her. “And yet soft.”

“Here,” Lexa hummed, moving the small hand to the red head already leaking precum, “you can use this as a lubricant. It makes it more pleasurable. Oil works too.”

Following her instructions, Clarke collected some of the slightly viscous liquid, and began to apply it all around the member, squeezing it lightly. Chocolate eyes shot open, the general woken by her ministrations, and with a moan, Anya’s hips started rolling to amplify the movements. Lexa continued her lesson for a few minutes, teaching the blonde how to stroke the shaft, roll the testicles — which nearly made Anya come on the spot, it had always been one of her weaknesses — caress the small slit at the top that was releasing a light yet uninterrupted flow of precum.

“Lex,” the supine woman whimpered, her member so hard it was becoming painful, “please.”

Clarke’s eyebrows rose in surprise at the display of weakness from the intimidating warrior. Though she wasn’t the one Anya had begged, not directly, she realized the power one held in bed, when a partner put his or her trust — and release — into their hands. What she had come to see as an act of dominance and show of strength could also be beautiful, with the right people.

Already panting and beyond aroused, Lexa had to stop herself from rutting against the blonde’s backside. The sight of their hands combined and rubbing Anya had stirred her own cock, now trapped between her stomach and Clarke’s lower back, but it wasn’t her turn yet. Instead, she encouraged the younger woman to stroke faster, whispering sweet nonsense into her ears, until her cousin sent thick white spurts all the way to her chest with a volley of curses, her neck taut and eyes rolling at the back of her head.

Releasing the softening shaft, Clarke let out a deep exhalation, and slouched against the brunette’s body. The experience had been exhilarating, but she could feel the pool of hot wetness running down her thighs, and she wondered if the two soldiers could smell how turned on she was. Her nipples, so stiff she feared they would poke through her _chiton_ , were rubbing almost uncomfortably against the light fabric, making her squirm against a still hard member. Lexa, encouraged by her action, brought her callused hands on the blonde’s body, one on her thigh and the other on her stomach, waiting for permission.

Too far gone to stop now, Clarke put one of her hands on Lexa’s and, with more bravery than she thought herself capable, moved it to cup her breast. Thankfully, the warrior understood her loud and clear, and began to knead at the supple flesh with intent, familiarizing herself with both mounds, learning how the blonde liked to be touched, how she enjoyed her buds to be treated, how the skin on her neck tasted. Both their bodies were rolling against each other, putting delicious pressure on Lexa’s cock, but the brunette wanted more. Catching the girl’s waist, she made her pivot so they were almost face-to-face, and inched herself closer. She stopped millimeters away from her target, giving Clarke time to swallow thickly and close the distance between them.

The kiss started somewhat slow, lips brushing, mouths taming each other. Lexa, not sure how experienced the blonde was, let her set the pace. To her delight, the maiden didn’t hesitate to poke her tongue out, licking at the pouty lips to ask for entrance. Tangling her hand into soft curls, the brunette granted her access, letting the younger woman explore her mouth eagerly, before reciprocating. Eventually, Clarke found herself astride the Commander’s thighs, the hard shaft she had been feeling for a while now rubbing against her center, pulling more wetness out of her.

“I want to be inside you,” Lexa breathed out, staring at the two sapphires, “will you let me?”

The answer came in the form of a whispered “yes”, and the warrior laid her soon-to-be lover on the furs, next to a smiling Anya. Their tunics were quickly discarded, both cousins in awe of the beautiful pale body now on display. Lexa placed a hand against wet blonde curls, teasing the folds she had been dreaming of for weeks, before bringing her mouth closer. The “Oh gods!” that escaped Clarke made her chest swell with pride, and encouraged her to continue lapping at the girl’s entrance, savoring the ambrosia dripping from it. Shifting her weight on one elbow, the warrior inserted her middle finger in the warmth, slowly enough to give the maiden time to adjust, until she was knuckle-deep in heaven. Despite the slight burn initially caused by the intrusion, the blonde quickly rolled her hips to meet the hand and mouth that were giving her so much pleasure, and the strength of her orgasm made her blackout for a few seconds.

When she opened her eyes, Clarke found herself staring right into Lexa’s soul, the Commander blanketing her with her own body, careful not to crush her. She could sense the hard cock rubbing against her thighs and glistening slit, still waiting for release, and she nodded at the brunette. Beaming, Lexa moved a hand down to help separate the folds and direct her cock, and she, inch by inch, entered the tight muscle that clenched around her hard. Once her pelvis made contact with the blonde’s, she stopped for a moment, checking that her lover wasn’t in pain.

“It’s OK,” Clarke confirmed, her lower lip caught between her teeth, “you can move. Just — go slow?”

“You feel so good,” Lexa groaned, beginning to move her hips at a slow pace. “So warm, so wet around my cock.”

Never in her life had the blonde thought that she would be able to hear such words without blushing, or even worse appreciate them. But in the Myrmidon’s arms, the beautiful face raw with pleasure, and Anya not faring much better on her side, staring at them, the praise made her heart flutter, and brought a gush of wetness out of her.

Lexa could feel the walls tighten around her shaft, signaling the blonde’s impending orgasm, but she was having a hard time containing her own pleasure. She was biting her lips, conjuring images of her former preceptor, Titus’s most boring lessons, to no avail. Thankfully, her cousin, not wanting to be left out, came to her rescue and slipped a hand between the two sweating bodies. When the general found Clarke’s clit, swollen and erect, she dipped her fingers in the wetness around and started to rub it with intent, following Lexa’s pace. It only took a few seconds for the blonde to scream, her back arching above the furs high enough that her chest was flushed against Lexa’s body above her, before she went limp. The contractions of her cunt and the beautiful sound that came out of her mouth sufficed to push the brunette over the edge, making her release spurt after spurt of cum until she fell next to the blonde with a grunt, spent.

As the only one still awake, Anya cleaned her two lovers with the cloth left beside the bed, before draping an arm around the blonde’s waist and letting sleep claim her too. When hunger woke them an hour later, the three women found themselves curled against each other, more at peace than any of them had been since the beginning of the war.


	9. Chapter 9

The Greeks were celebrating the end of their second year on the foreign soil, and despite the wine and women several kings offered to their men, the atmosphere was not particularly festive. Not much progress had been made, and the high walls of Troy stood as strong as ever, taunting them. The Achaean army had conquered many cities along the coast and in the neighboring lands, but, alas, King Marcus, hidden in the safety of his fortress, could still count on his allies to replenish his troops and his granaries.

In the Myrmidons’ camp, the disciplined soldiers enjoyed the double ration of wine allowed by their Commander, under the watchful eyes of general Indra and her second, Gustus. Fearing the Trojan army would take advantage of the night of debauchery to attack, the experienced woman had organized more patrols than usual, and doubled the scouts. The rest of the army might have to fight drunk and in their _chitons_ , but the soldiers of Phthia would not be caught in a position of weakness.

In their tent, Lexa, Anya, and Clarke were having a celebration of their own. Ever since that first afternoon, when the young blonde had finally succumbed to temptation and acknowledged her attraction for the two amazing warriors, the three of them had grown closer and spent all their nights together. Due to the general’s injury and the blonde’s lack of experience, they took things slow at first, learning each other’s bodies and weak spots, in a dance that looked a lot like making love. Months had passed since, and they were now all comfortable enough to spice things up. There were still nights when they preferred to be tender and slow, but it was not one of those. Instead, after sharing a nicer dinner than usual with their soldiers, they had retired to the privacy of their quarters to indulge in more vigorous activities.

They had barely made it inside that Lexa had grabbed the younger woman by the waist and locked their lips together, stealing the breath out of her lungs. Anya, not wanting to be left out, draped herself around the girl’s back, nibbling at her neck while a strong hand took possession of a breast, making the blonde moan in-between kisses. They always took turns worshipping each other, two of them often taking care of the third one, but if they had to be honest, the warriors both very much enjoyed their partner’s softer body.

Clarke could feel the heat pool at the apex of her thighs, her lovers leaving her in her _chiton_ , which did nothing to stop the warm liquid dribbling down her center. She was trapped between them, strong muscles and hardening cocks rubbing against her, sending spikes of pleasure up her spine. In an attempt to regain some control, the blonde sneaked a hand behind her back to stroke Anya, and bit the brunette’s lower lip, making her growl. Lexa drew her head back, looking at the blue eyes that glinted in a challenge and the smirk pulling at the pink lips.

“You’re going to pay for that,” she promised, smiling smugly when she noticed the goosebumps showing on the pale skin.

With Anya’s help, she removed the girl’s tunic, their eyes raking over the body now on display, enticing curves and hints of muscles shivering with excitement. Pulling the blonde gently enough to give her time to say no if she wanted to, Lexa brought the three of them by the bed, before pushing her on the furs, face down.

Stepping behind her, Lexa took her time appraising the naked bottom and back, her fingernails lightly scratching the skin, from the shaking shoulders to the wiggling butt cheeks. She could see the blonde’s wet folds and, unable to resist, kneeled on the ground so her mouth could be at the right height. A pink tongue darted out, licking the slit all the way to the puckered hole; Clarke’s moan eliciting a smirk. The brunette continued her ministrations, playing with the labia, suckling them, entering the hot cunt with her tongue, but staying away from the red clit that begged for attention, determined to show her young lover what happened when she played with fire. Based on Clarke’s whimpers, she was enjoying the lesson so far.

Happy to observe her lovers at first, Anya could feel her cock hardening by the minute, to the point that it was becoming painful. With Lexa busy eating out the girl with all her might, there weren’t many options available to her. In the end, catching an inviting look from the blonde, she crawled on the bed and lay in front of her, gloriously naked. That had clearly been what the girl wanted, because she immediately latched on her cock, engulfing half of it in seconds. The whole affair took some reorganization and shuffling, but they eventually found the right pace, Lexa pushing Clarke onto the general’s groin with her tongue and fingers.

Once the blonde’s first orgasm had subsided, leaving her flushed and panting, Anya’s cock momentarily forgotten, Lexa stood up and began rubbing her shaft against the wet folds.

“Oh gods,” Clarke breathed out, “please, Lex. I need you inside.”

Not one to refuse such an invitation, the Commander entered her lover from behind, careful not to hurt her. She still needed to teach her a lesson, though, and once they were back to moving like a well-oiled machine, the blonde trapped between her and Anya, she slapped the pale bottom once, making Clarke cry around the erect member in her mouth.

Lexa feared for a second that she had gone too far, but the blonde immediately impaled herself all the way until the brunette’s pelvis, and rolled her hips hard enough to make her groan. They continued the same dance for a while, until a well-timed slap from Lexa made the blonde moan, triggering Anya’s orgasm. The tall woman’s reaction was all it took to push Clarke over the edge once more, and like dominoes, brought Lexa to her own climax. The three women fell on the bed, exhausted, chuckling at what had just happened.

*****

One morning, an old man found his way into the Greek camp, his hands held up front to show that he was unarmed. When a sentinel stopped him, the gray-haired man requested an audience with Pike, saying that the king had something that belonged to him. Sensing that the visitor was not a threat, the Greek soldier begrudgingly accepted to lead him to his king, the decision facilitated by the few gold coins that found their way into his pocket.

The tent where Pike gave audiences and regularly met with the other Achaean leaders stood at the center of the camp, close to the shore, and well guarded. It was one of the most magnificent around, much larger than a regular one, and richly decorated with carpets, furs, and golden trinkets obtained since the beginning of the war. The bald dark-skinned man throned on an imposing wooden chair covered with furs at one end of a massive oaken table, with several chairs distributed on each side. When the sentinel and the old man entered, all eyes turned to them, Pike’s black ones showing some irritation at the interruption.

“Forgive me, my King,” the soldier spoke, bowing low, “this man requested an audience. He said you have something of his.”

“I probably do,” Pike responded with arrogance, pointing at the various spoils decorating the tent, “but then we are at war, aren’t we? What was taken is now rightfully mine.”

“If I may,” the old man stepped forward, his head bowing in a show of respect despite the anger in his eyes, “I am not here for cups and carpets. My name is Chryses, and I am a priest of Apollo in the temple of Chryse. Several months ago, some of your men pillaged another temple in Lyrnessus and took some of the maidens as prisoners. I found out only recently that my daughter, Chryseis, was among them, and I came to beg you to release her.”

“And why would I do that?” the king scoffed. “I know the girl, she’s been serving me and warming my bed for months, why would I let her go now that she’s finally learned some manners?”

The other leaders looked at each other awkwardly, embarrassed by their king’s blatant lack of respect. No one had the right to tell him how to treat his prisoners, and more than one of them had done something similar in the past, but telling the girl’s father of such infamy was another matter entirely. Especially when such father was a priest; as the gods were known to take umbrage when their servants were poorly treated.

“Please,” Chryses asked between gritted teeth, “release my daughter to me. I can give you riches to compensate for the loss.”

“I said no!” Pike retorted, veins bulging on his neck. “Now be gone, before I chain you to a pole and have my soldiers practice their aim on you!”

The old man moved towards the tent’s exit, hands shaking, but before leaving, he turned around, and stared at the Greek leader.

“Mark my word, o king of kings. Apollo will not let this affront go unpunished.”

And without another word, he left, not caring for the angry shouts coming from the tent. The temperamental king might not have any honor, but even he wouldn’t have a defenseless priest killed in the middle of the camp.

*****

Several days later, the Greek army was not faring well. A mysterious plague had struck the camp, killing men and animals alike. The healers were powerless to stop it, and most of the sick died in less than two days, their bodies twisted with pain.

The Achaean leaders called for an emergency meeting to discuss the situation, and more than one of them proved to be in favor of returning home. They clearly had lost the favor of the gods, and the cruel punishment frightened them. After several sacrifices, one of the priests entered the tent to inform them of his findings. Apollo was angry, and he had fired his poisonous arrows on the camp, causing the disease. If the god of music and medicine wasn’t appeased, the entire army would eventually die.

After hearing those words, the kings all began to speak at the same time, wondering how to calm down the upset deity. Most of them had witnessed or heard of the confrontation between Pike and the god’s priest, and that was, without a doubt, what had angered Apollo. The dark-skinned man, however, showed his stubbornness again by refusing to give up his slave, arguing that she was his to keep. The discussion would probably have continued well into the evening, if Lexa hadn’t intervened.

“Listen to me,” she said in a controlled, calm voice commanding respect, “we all heard the priest, and the situation is clear. Either the girl, Chryseis, is returned to her father, or we will lose this war. We have already sacrificed too much; we cannot let all our soldiers die for one girl.”

“Do not talk to me about sacrifice,” Pike shouted out, his jaw tense, “when I had to kill my daughter to begin this journey. Why should I be the one to give up something of my own, again?”

“What happened to Iphigenia was tragic,” Lexa conceded, “but it was a punishment for your pride, and you know it. Don’t let your arrogance cost us all the victory you promised.”

Several men gasped at the brunette’s words, fearing their king’s reaction. He was known for his short temper, and nobody before her had ever dared to question him like that. They knew that Lexa would be instrumental to their victory, and she was the best warrior among them, but Pike could very well have her killed for her insolence in a moment of madness. To their surprise, instead of losing his temper and have the woman thrown out of the tent, the bald man looked at her for a few seconds, a smirk appearing on his face, before he spoke again.

“Very well. Since all of you seem to agree, I will let the girl go. I was growing tired of her anyway, always crying and whining. But as compensation,” he continued, his voice turning cold and menacing, “I will be taking one of your prisoners, Lexa. You kept a pretty blonde, right? She’ll be perfect.”

The princess of Phthia was on her feet before he could even finish his sentence, her eyes glowing with rage. Only Odysseus was brave enough to catch her arm and stop her from murdering the man in the middle of his council. Though it was unorthodox, Pike was their leader, and had the right to claim any spoil as his own. The move would make him lose the army’s sympathy and esteem, but Lexa couldn’t refuse him.

When they all arrived at the Myrmidons’ encampment, Lexa fuming and gritting her teeth, Anya took her place next to her cousin and asked her what was happening. Her fury nearly equaled the brunette’s at the news, and Indra and Gustus had to hold them back while some of Pike’s men dragged Clarke out of the tent.

“I’m sorry Clarke,” Anya told the blonde whose face displayed fear and confusion at the situation, “there is nothing we can do for now. Stay strong.”

“Listen to me Pike,” Lexa growled, staring at the man she despised now even more than before, “I swear it on all the gods; if you touch her or hurt her in any way, I will kill you.”

The man trembled with rage at the threat and lack of respect, but he didn’t rise to the bait. Despite being an excellent fighter, he didn’t stand a chance against Lexa, and they all knew it. If she challenged him to a duel, he would lose, and die. Instead, he merely returned to his quarters, with a new servant in tow.


	10. Chapter 10

Several weeks had passed since the incident involving Pike and Chryses, and the Myrmidons had yet to return to the battlefield. Lexa, furious that Clarke had been taken, refused to fight for the Achaean, and she had forbidden her men to join the attacks. She could be seen training harder than ever with Anya; the two women breaking spears and shields one after another. The cousins both missed the blue-eyed blonde who had found her way into their hardened hearts, and without her, they felt lost and angry.

Not long after Chryseis had been returned to her father, the disease that had plagued the Greek camp ceased, and the soldiers who survived it recovered. They were back facing the Trojan army, but without the support of the princess of Phthia and her ferocious warriors, they were slowly losing ground.

*****

In the fortress, King Marcus held a meeting with his generals and counselors. All had noticed the missing Myrmidons and heard rumors of dissent between Lexa and Pike, and wondered how they could use this to their advantage.

“I tell you, this is the work of Apollo,” the bald priest, Jaha, stated. “The Lord of Light is displeased with those barbarians who invaded our lands and pillaged his temples. He sent his poisoned arrows to weaken them, and now he has brought conflict and resentment in the Achaean camp. We should strike while they are vulnerable. With His blessing, we are sure to be victorious.”

“Attacking the camp would only bring the Greeks closer together,” Prince Roan disagreed, “let them quarrel among themselves. With some luck, the Myrmidons will leave our shore, weakening the army and Pike’s authority.”

Finn, sending an occasion to leave his older brother’s shadow and earn some glory, decided to intervene. “I should challenge Bellamy to a duel. We don’t need more people to die when the issue is between the two of us. With Apollo’s blessing, I am sure to win.”

Roan and some of the generals rolled their eyes at the boastful prince, well aware that his talent in close-range combat was way inferior to his abilities with a bow. The young man had to truly believe that Apollo was on their side to risk his life, and to offer to face Bellamy, a much more seasoned warrior. Nonetheless, after Jaha and the younger generals approved, King Marcus had no other choice but to allow his son to issue a challenge. The winner would keep Helen, and the loser would meet Charon.

*****

In the Greek camp, the kings were conversing, as they did regularly. For the previous moon or so, the main topic had been Lexa and her Myrmidons, and Pike was fuming. The warrior’s refusal to fight was discrediting him, but he didn’t have the support of the other leaders to force her back onto the battlefield. Many, including Odysseus, had tried to persuade him to return the blonde maiden to the princess of Phthia and her cousin, but his pride wouldn’t allow him to lose face.

When an envoy from Troy brought the duel challenge, he welcomed the distraction, but not the dilemma that came with it. Should Bellamy win, and he had no doubt that his brother would prevail, he would get his wife back, and the Achaeans would lose their reason to fight. The man had sacrificed too much to return home now, without breaching the high walls. On the other hand, refusing would be seen as a cowardly move.

“Brother,” Bellamy pleaded, “allow me to fight this good for nothing of a prince. Let me regain my honor and my wife. I will show them all how foolish he was to cross a Greek king.”

“I didn’t come all this way for a woman who couldn’t keep her legs closed,” Pike replied through his greeted teeth. “I want Troy to fall. I want the riches and the glory that will be ours once we take the city.”

“And you will still have them. Once Helen is returned to me, I doubt Marcus will let us leave without avenging his son, especially if I humiliate him. We can still take Troy.”

Pike remained quiet for a moment, devising various plans. His idiotic brother was annoying, but he wasn’t wrong. Declining the duel would make them look weak, but there were ways for them to conquer the city even after his victory. If they were lucky, the Trojans would break the truce to avenge their boyish prince. If they didn’t, they could accuse them of conspiring to sink the Greek ships, or even poison Helen and blame them for her death. Yes, he would see Troy fall and his name written in the history books, no matter the cost.

*****

A few days later, the two armies met on the plain, halfway between the city and the Greek camp, to observe two men fight. They all stayed at a distance, only the combatants and their family met in the middle. Even the Myrmidons were present, at the back of the Achaean forces, waiting for the fight that would decide their fate.

“Are you sure you don’t want to get closer?” Anya asked her cousin. Both women were wearing their light armors, not planning to engage in a battle, but willing to defend themselves if the Trojans broke the truce.

“No. No matter the ending, there is a chance the fights will resume, and I don’t want us to be caught in it,” the brunette answered, her jaw tight.

The older blonde nodded, knowing better than to argue with her. Their relationship was tense ever since Clarke had been taken, and neither of them seemed to know how to fix it. They had always understood each other well, and used to be able to communicate without words, but now something was amiss. The blue-eyed young woman had torn down the walls that used to protect their hearts, and without her, the cousins were unable to return to how things had been, leading to arguments and frustration. They still shared a bed, but it wasn’t the same anymore, the delicate balance between them was upset.

Finn and Bellamy stepped forward and slowly approached each other, weapons drawn. Where the Greek king had opted for his usual armor, the Trojan prince sported a chest plate and shield that looked almost ceremonial, and appeared pristine. The curly-haired Achaean rolled his eyes at the display, before smirking. He would soon enough put some dents on the beautiful bronze armor, and on the boy under it.

Once Prince Roan had reminded both sides that Helen was the prize of the duel, and that they would battle to the death, he walked back to his men, leaving the two fighters alone at the center. Though he hoped his younger brother would prevail, the prince was more concerned with the truce and the aftermath of the duel. Would Pike agree to leave their shore once Bellamy was in possession of his wife? Or if the King of Sparta died? In doubt, he had warned his troops to get ready for a fight, and positioned thousands of archers nearby and on the walls of Troy.

 _Dorus_ held high, shields covering the left part of their bodies, the two men stared at each other for a few seconds, before Finn thrust his spear, hoping to catch Bellamy by surprise and end the fight with one move. Having expected such a cowardly action, the older man jerked his head to the side, and used the side of his _aspis_ to push the weapon away, destabilizing Finn. Before the floppy-haired prince could react, he moved into his space and headbutted him, sending him flying onto the ground where he landed on his back with a broken nose.

Bellamy could have ended the fight there and then, stabbed the supine man with his spear, but he didn’t simply want to win. He wanted to crush and humiliate the boy who had had the gall to steal his wife from their home.

“Get up!” he harangued the younger man. “Get up and fight me!”

Considerably paler than before, Finn stood up, blood dripping down his chin. He had hoped Apollo would grant him an easy victory, but the god seemingly had other plans. Spitting the blood that had entered his mouth, the prince tightened his hold on his weapons, and stepped forward once more. The Spartan king let him attack, lazily avoiding his strikes, until he saw an opening and cut his arm with the tip of his spear, making Finn cry out in pain.

The fight continued for several minutes, Bellamy making it clearer and clearer that he was only toying with his opponent, damaging his armor and cutting him many times, not enough for him to bleed out, but enough that it stung. Weakened by his wounds and unused as he was to carrying the weight of his shield for a long time, the Trojan prince was panting. His thrusts were getting clumsier, and Bellamy, growing tired of this game, began to go on the offensive. He jabbed and hit Finn several times, even going as far as to hit him in the face with his _aspis_ when the prince didn’t move back fast enough, making him stumble and fall on his ass. Too tired to stand again, and terrified at the prospect of dying, the young man started to crawl towards his army, leaving his weapons discarded on the ground.

“Come on,” Roan muttered, “get back on your feet and fight!”

“Come back, you spineless coward!” Bellamy shouted. “Come back and die like a man!”

The black-haired king threw his _doru_ on the ground, and unsheathed his sword, getting ready to stab his opponent in the back if he had to. The duel wouldn’t end until one of them was dead, and all now knew who deserved to be victorious. He lifted his weapon in the air and—

Before he could pierce Finn’s neck, an arrow coming from the Trojan army caught him in the shoulder, sending him backward. Unbeknown to Roan and most of the generals, King Marcus had enlisted the help of a promising young archer, Wells, Jaha’s own son, to protect his beloved younger child’s life in case the fight went south. Sensing that Bellamy was about to kill Finn, the dark-skinned man had obeyed his orders, despite his own doubts, and shot a well-aimed arrow to save the prince.

“Traitors!” Pike bellowed, furious. “Kill them! Kill them all!”

Roan barely had time to grab his brother and rush him back behind a line of soldiers that the Greek army was upon them. His _xiphos_ already reddened with the blood of his enemies, the bearded prince ordered his men to retreat to the walls. The Achaeans, encouraged by Pike’s shouts, pursued the Trojan army all the way to the city, forgetting the thousands of archers waiting for them there. 

“Order them back, you fool,” Lexa mumbled, having not moved from her previous position, her men standing behind her.

“Should we go help them, Commander?” Indra inquired when the cries of the dying soldiers began, the Greek army having found itself under heavy fire.

“I will not send our men to die for Pike’s hubris,” the brunette stated despite her reluctance to let her compatriot die. “He will order the retreat soon enough if he doesn’t want to lose his whole army. Let’s go back to camp.”

And with that, the princess of Phthia and her generals turned their backs on Troy and the fights, though they didn’t miss the sounds of the army falling back a few moments later. The war was far from over, but the Greeks had suffered a severe defeat that day and lost hundreds of men.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Charon = the ferryman who carries the souls of the dead across the Styx and into Hades’s realm.  
> Doru = the Greek spear  
> Xiphos = Greek sword, secondary weapon  
> Aspis = ancient type of shield, made of wood


	11. Chapter 11

Two days after the disastrous battle, the Greeks were still licking their wounds. King Bellamy would survive his injury, but the same couldn’t be said for many soldiers who had found themselves too close to the walls and gotten an arrow or two. The morale was lower than ever, and the various leaders had difficulties making their men obey them. If not for the severe punishment — death by 1,000 cuts — reserved for those who were caught, thousands would probably have deserted and returned home.

In the Myrmidons camp, the men were growing bored, but supported their Commander’s decision not to fight. Over the course of the previous weeks, more than one had offered to storm Pike’s tent and recover the kind blonde they had grown to appreciate, warming up Lexa and Anya’s heart all while cruelly reminding them who they were missing.

On that particular morning, the cousins were training, exchanging hard blows and taunts, when the tall general suddenly dropped her weapons. Lexa would have hit her square in the chest if not for her quick reflexes, and she deviated her arm at the last second. She was about to scold her for her inattention when the dirty-blond haired woman took off towards the entrance, and the green-eyed warrior followed her, wondering what had bitten her. When she finally noticed the sight that had caught her cousin’s eyes, she beamed. Clarke was back, Odysseus by her side.

The blonde stood proudly, despite the tears visible in her eyes. She seemed unharmed, though a little thinner than before. The two warriors were not usually keen on public displays. Although all their soldiers knew of the romantic relationship between them, almost no one had ever seen them kiss or hug. And yet, with their minds flooding with relief and joy, the women forgot all decorum and embraced their lover tenderly.

“Clarke, are you well? Did he hurt you?” Anya inquired immediately; her arms wrapped around the girl’s waist.

“I’m fine. He didn’t touch me,” she replied, looking at each woman in turns, her blue orbs saying what her words couldn’t, _I’m still yours, he didn’t dare risk your anger_ , and she rested her head against theirs.

“What does this mean?” Lexa asked, placing herself between the two most important women of her life who were still hugging, and Odysseus.

“King Pike has agreed to return your prisoner, and asks that you resume fighting. With Bellamy being incapacitated for now and the losses we suffered recently, we need your Myrmidons, Lexa.”

“And yet he’s still too proud to give her back himself, or apologize. He truly refuses to learn, doesn’t he?” she growled. “I will not send my men to die for a king who hides behind the lines and doesn’t care about anyone other than himself.”

“Then what will you do? You can’t leave and return to Phthia, you and your men would all be considered deserters, you know that,” the bearded man warned her. In truth, the wise king of Ithaca wanted nothing more than to leave this inhospitable land too and return to his son and beautiful wife. He despised Pike and his arrogance, and cursed the day he had tried to woo Helen and found himself swearing an oath with the rest of the assembly there that day. But no man could escape his destiny, and his had led him here, on the shores of Troy. They wouldn’t be allowed to leave until the walls were taken down, and so he would use all the weapons the gods had given him to see the Greeks victorious.

“I know,” Lexa answered, “and that’s why we are still here, despite everything. But this doesn’t change the fact that neither I nor my men will take orders from that snake anymore. We will defend ourselves if our camp is under attack, no more.”

The man sighed, but he didn’t argue, and took his leave. For now, it would have to do. In his head, there was no doubt that the Myrmidons would eventually resume fighting, whether out of boredom or necessity if the Trojans ever made it far enough to threaten them.

Ignoring him completely, Lexa turned around and smiled at the sight of the two women, still caught in an embrace, albeit looser. Mindful not to give her soldiers, and the rest of the Greek army, more of a show than they already had, she led them towards the tent, _their_ tent. Once inside, the blonde threw herself at her, arms locked around her shoulders, and nuzzled her neck.

“I missed you so much!” the younger woman admitted, “you and Anya. I was going crazy.”

“We missed you too,” the brunette echoed, unable to stop herself. “Are you all right, truly? Did he do anything to you?”

“I’m fine, I swear. Other than make me clean his things, he avoided me most of the time. I don’t know which one he feared most, yours or Apollo’s wrath, but he didn’t dare to lay a hand on me.”

“If he had, I would have cut it and forced him to eat it,” Anya muttered, a murderous glint in her dark eyes.

The blonde chuckled and pecked the tall warrior before taking a look at her surroundings, and scowling at them for letting the tent in such a state of disarray. Chastised, the proud women promised they would clean the mess they had left. Satisfied, Clarke began kissing them, seemingly wanting to reacquaint herself with their bodies, but Lexa stopped her, her guilt getting in the way.

“I’m sorry for everything,” she whispered, her head hang low, not daring to look at the blonde she had put at risk. “I provoked Pike, forced him to return his captive to appease Apollo. That’s why he took you, he wanted to punish me. I swear I had no idea he was going to react like that, and I couldn’t stop him, but—”

“Shh,” Clarke replied, caressing the trembling jaw with her fingers. “I know. To be honest, I was angry at first, seeing you both standing there, letting him drag me away. But after a few days, I understood that you didn’t have a choice. It was scary, but he barely interacted with me after that first day.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that you were treated as property, that’s not right. I—I want to free you,” the brunette said, lifting her eyes to stare at the blue ones wide open in shock. “You are not an object; you should decide your own fate. If you wish to return to Troy, I’ll have you escorted there safely.”

“You would really let me go?” the blonde tilted her head, confused by the turn of events. Though neither woman had treated her like a prisoner in a long time, that was still technically what she was. To her surprise, both warriors acquiesced, pained looks on their strong features.

“I love you,” Clarke finally said, a tender smile on her face when Lexa and Anya, startled by the sudden declaration, were at loss for words. “Both of you, so much. You’ve been amazing, protecting me, being patient with me. You’ve cared more for me than anyone had in years and I just—I want to be with you, to be yours again. Please.”

No more words were exchanged for a while after that, as the three lovers moved to the sleeping area and removed their clothes hastily. The Myrmidons, deprived of the blonde’s ambrosia for too long, first made her come with their mouths, alternating between her breast and the treasure hidden between her trembling thighs.

Once she could breathe again, Clarke begged them to take her, making their cocks twitch. Anya, after receiving a nod from her cousin, pushed the pale legs open, and entered the younger woman slowly, moaning at the warmth she had missed. After a few seconds, the general started thrusting, increasing the pace until she was pounding in the blonde, making them both whimper. Clarke was holding onto her back, clawing at the skin and leaving long red marks that would be visible for days. Thoroughly turned on by the sight, Lexa stroked her shaft next to them, until an idea struck her, and she placed herself behind Anya.

“Oh fuck,” the lean woman groaned, feeling her lover’s fingers coated in oil massage her puckered hole before slowly pushing in.

After a couple of minutes, Lexa deemed her general ready enough, and she replaced her fingers with the head of her cock, sinking it in inch after inch, until Anya was trapped between Clarke’s body and hers, barely holding back her orgasm.

“This is so hot,” Clarke breathed out in awe, watching the two women she loved fuck above her, against her. The brunette’s pushes reverberated all the way into her cunt, multiplying the sensations.

The three women resumed their carnal dance for a few minutes, the cousins synchronizing their moves so they didn’t unsheathe. Moans and whimpers grew stronger, in unison with the sounds of flesh against flesh. The blonde sneaked one of her hands between Anya and herself, rubbing and pinching the light-brown nipples that had been tempting her, and the added sensation was enough to push the general over the edge, making her release spurt after spurt of cum. Lexa, sensing that their time was up, sped up and caressed her own breasts, triggering her release only moments later. The groans and faces of her lovers, plus the feeling of Anya emptying herself in her brought Clarke to her second orgasm of the morning, and she let herself go limp against the furs. Lexa, standing on shaky legs, fetched a cloth to clean their bodies quickly, before she let herself fall on the bed, Anya and her encircling the blonde they had thoroughly missed.

The two warriors had grown in a cold world, their respective positions forcing them to take on the mantle of leadership and hide their emotions behind a mask of cool indifference, their hearts hardening year after year, battle after battle. Despite their long-lasting relationship, they had never exchanged words of love, or sweet promises of something more. But that day, overwhelmed with joy and relief, not to mention the happiness brought by the blonde’s previous admittance, their walls cracked, their resolve weakened, and both finally voiced what they had known all along. They were in love, with each other, and with the beautiful blue-eyed goddess who completed them. The confessions and tears were followed by another round of intense sex, and this time it was Lexa who found herself sandwiched between Clarke and Anya, the sensations so strong that she swore she visited the Elysian Fields for a moment.

Once the passion that had taken over receded, the three women remained lying on the furs, tangled in a pile of limbs and hair, and Clarke decided that it was time to recount her past. Encouraged by her lovers’ caresses, she told them about her father, a noble Trojan called Jacob, who had died of a fever when she was 15. Her mother, wishing to maintain their position in the court, refused to complain to King Marcus when, a year later, Prince Finn took interest in the pretty blonde and started harassing her. Clarke did everything she could to avoid the annoying man, with the help of her friends, but her refusal sparked a fire in him and only seemed to fuel his attraction. Eventually, he attempted to rape her, and only the arrival of one of Clarke’s best friends stopped him. The girl ran away the following morning, leaving her name and riches behind without a second thought, and joined the temple of Apollo in Lyrnessus. Her mother, furious, had tried to force her to return and become the prince’s mistress, but the priest had protected her, saying that the vows she had taken were sacred.

Though she had been touched by Lexa’s offer to let her return to her hometown, the truth was, Troy wasn’t her home anymore. She couldn’t go back, lest Finn and her mother would take revenge on her, and after tasting freedom once more, she couldn’t imagine being a servant of Apollo again, surviving on light meals and rare baths, with no privacy or love in her life.

“Shh, it’s OK,” Anya whispered once the blonde was done, pulling her closer. “Your home is with us now, and we won’t let anyone hurt you. I swear it.”

“So do I,” Lexa nodded, both angry at the people who had hurt her lover and grateful that the Fates had woven their destinies together. “You are not a slave anymore, you are one of us now, for as long as you wish to be.”

“Thank you,” Clarke answered, tears in her eyes. Never had she felt so understood and loved, not since her father’s passing at least. “Will you teach me to defend myself? I know I’ll never be a Myrmidon, but I don’t want to feel helpless ever again.”

“Of course,” Lexa promised, kissing the girl’s forehead and then Anya’s lips. “We will start your training tomorrow. For now, there are other physical activities we can do to increase your stamina...”


	12. Chapter 12

Months had passed since Clarke’s return to her lovers’ side, and the Achaean army had been on the shores of Troy for three long years already. True to the words she had told Odysseus, Lexa and her Myrmidons remained at the camp, not participating in the battles that regularly took place between the Greeks and the Trojans. To keep themselves busy, they farmed, fished, and exercised every day.

As agreed, Anya and Lexa spent their free time training Clarke and turning the maiden into — not quite a Myrmidon, that would take years — but a somewhat capable warrior. Despite her perseverance, the blonde had no particular talent with the sword and the spear. However, she rapidly became a good archer, hitting the center of the target more often than not. Between that and her medicine skills, it seemed that Apollo had truly blessed her. She also proved herself a smart and cunning tactician, and learned a lot about strategies under Indra’s tutelage.

The once thin and soft girl now sported lean muscles on her arms and legs, and could, for a short time, keep up with her companions in arms. She would always remain curvier than her lovers, but her once flat and soft stomach shown the outline of a set of abs, and her hand didn’t tremble anymore when she strung her bow. Upon Indra’s suggestion, she had cut her long hair into a shoulder-length bob, harder to grab in combat. During her training sessions, running around the camp, carrying heavy stones and buckets, or yielding various weapons, she could feel the proud looks the Commander and the general threw at her, warming her heart and core. More than once, the three women had to stop themselves from dragging each other into the tent to indulge in a different kind of physical activity.

One morning, minutes only after the sunrise, the three women were sleeping, legs tangled and hair mixed, when shouts and metallic sounds woke them up. Before they could exit to assess the situation, a disheveled Indra entered their tent, followed by Gustus, half wrapped in his armor.

“Commander,” the dark-skinned woman immediately said, “the Trojan army, led by Prince Roan, is attacking the camp. They managed to kill the sentinels, and are running havoc all around. Some ships are already on fire. Ajax’s area is about to be overrun, and Odysseus sent a messenger begging for our help.”

“Are our ships or camp in any danger?” the brunette inquired with a frown.

“No Commander, the brunt of their attack is north of here. I doubt they’ll make it all the way to our doorstep. But our allies’ losses will be numerous.”

“My orders stand. As long as they don’t reach the limits of our camp, we remain here.”

“Lexa!” Anya spoke up, surprised at her cousin’s decision. “I know that you don’t want to fight for Pike anymore, trust me I get it. But the situation is different. This is not a faraway battlefield, their army is here, burning ships and killing unprepared men. We have to aid them.”

“We don’t have to do anything,” Lexa seethed, a vein bulging on her temple. “None of those cowards stopped Pike from taking Clarke, why should we help them now? We will not fight, not until they come close enough that they are a danger to us.”

“You pig-headed woman!” the tall general groaned, unimpressed by her lover’s stubbornness. For all her qualities, the princess of Phthia could at times be a handful, and all their years together hadn’t mollified her much. “The leaders might be spineless idiots, but their soldiers have done nothing to us, and they deserve our help. If only so that we can return home one day. How will we leave if half the boats are gone? If you refuse to fight, at least let me go and lead our men into battle.”

“Fine, do what you want. You and Indra can take two-thirds of the Myrmidons and come to Odysseus’s assistance. Of all the kings around here, he is the only one deserving a semblance of respect and friendship. But I forbid you from chasing them, do you understand? Push back the attack, and then come back.”

“Yes, Commander,” the almond-eyed woman nodded, her jaw tense, before she jumped into her armor and ran out of the tent, gathering the warriors.

“Do you think I am wrong to stand by my decision and refuse to fight?” the brunette asked Clarke once they were alone, sitting in bed. To a foreign observer, the proud leader would appear confident and strong, but the blonde had learned her telltale signs by now. Lexa was nervous and feared her judgment.

“I admire the strength of your conviction,” the girl began carefully, caressing her lover’s cheek, “and how far you were ready to go to defend me. If I had been anyone else’s, Pike wouldn’t have hesitated to hurt me. Your name and reputation protected me, and I am grateful for that. But I think Anya is right too. You don’t need to fight for Pike or the other kings. Fight for Greece, for all the men here who have been away from their homes and families for too long.”

“You would have me kill Trojans then? Your fellow countrymen?”

“I—Troy is not my home anymore, but no, I wish you wouldn’t have to kill them, or the citizens inside the walls if you ever manage to make it into the city. Roan is a good man, and he will be a great king one day. Honestly, I just want this army to renounce its foolish quest and leave these shores, and to be able to go to Phthia with you and Anya.”

“I doubt the gods will agree to this,” the brunette sighed, lying on her back. “We have been through so much already; Pike will never accept to leave with his tail between his legs.”

Humming in agreement, the blonde let her head rest against a strong shoulder, and closed her eyes. It was too late and noisy around them to go back to sleep, but as long as she couldn’t see, she was free to imagine being in the palace of Phthia, surrounded by the two women she loved, at peace.

*****

On the battlefield, the Myrmidons, galvanized by the prospect of killing enemies after almost a year of inaction, raised their _dorus_ and _aspides_ , shouting war cries. Their traditional war paint ran down their temples and cheeks, terrifying their opponents before they even had a chance to exchange blows.

Anya and Indra split up near Odysseus’s camp, each taking half of the soldiers to make a pincer attack on the Trojans who had been foolish enough to challenge their allies. The dirty-blond haired warrior grinned with excitement, and tightened her hand around her spear. Once both groups had signaled that they were ready, she let out a cry, and ran forward, her men following closely.

The first shock with the Trojans soldiers echoed all around, _dorus_ and shields clanging. Taking advantage of the element of surprise, the Greeks didn’t give their opponents time to breathe or close ranks, and rammed through them with all their might, pushing them back. As if possessed by Athena, Anya killed several men with precise thrusts of her spear, not giving them any chance to dodge or raise their shields. Blood was dripping down her face and equipment, but she refused to slow down, enjoying the thrill of the battle.

The Trojans were falling back, at last, leaving a trail of injured and dead in their wake, the Greek soldiers in tow. Despite Lexa’s orders, the Myrmidons, thirsty for blood, followed them onto the large plain, until they met the gathered Trojan army. As the Fates would have it, Anya almost immediately found herself facing Roan. The woman knew that she should have ordered her men to retreat, but faced with the opportunity to deprive the Trojans of their strongest hero, and possibly tilt the balance in favor of the Achaeans, she charged.

The prince waited for her, and her spear found nothing but air where his head had been a second before. He counterattacked with a quick thrust to her side, but Anya hadn’t survived all those battles only thanks to luck, and she stepped aside, trapping his _doru_ between her right arm and her body. A sharp blow of her _aspis_ was enough to break the weapon, and the prince threw it to the side, unsheathing his _xiphos_ in the same movement. The blonde hit him with a series of quick jabs, aiming for the man’s chest and face, but she couldn’t inflict more than superficial cuts.

The two opponents, very evenly matched, continued trading blows for a couple of minutes, without either of them taking the lead. Many soldiers had stopped fighting to form a circle around them and admire the display of strength and technic. After a particularly heavy hit during which her spear connected with the side of the shield and cracked, Anya had to abandon the useless weapon and the extra reach it gave her. Playing fair, Roan stepped back, giving her the time to grab her sword, before he attacked again.

Their blades met halfway, drawing sparks, the soldiers’ roars drowning the sound of metal against metal. When one attacked high, the other parried and went low, in a dangerous dance even the gods would have watched with interest. Anya was the first to lose her shield, a precise hit cutting the leather strap that fastened her forearm as well as the skin. The wound wasn’t mortal, but it bled heavily, and forced the warrior to maintain her arm against her chest in an attempt to slow the flow of red.

Pressing his advantage, Roan pushed and focused on her wounded left side. A particularly strong blow aimed for her head would have decapitated the general if she hadn’t thrown herself to the ground. Catching the prince’s legs between hers, she twisted her lower body, forcing him to land on his back, stealing the breath from his lungs. Before he could react, she thrust her _xiphos_ , piercing his thigh hard enough to make him grunt.

Both warriors stood up, panting and grimacing from the pain they were experiencing. Anya could move her left arm much, and Roan, limping, got rid of the heavy _aspis_ that was now hindering him. Raising their weapons high, the two adversaries were about to cross swords once more when an arrow, sent by an unidentified Trojan archer, embedded itself in Anya’s right shoulder, throwing her off balance. Taking advantage of her distraction, and unable to stop his attack, Roan sank his _xiphos_ into her left flank, getting boos from the Greek soldiers and hurrahs from his men.

Before he could withdraw his weapon and finish off the tall blonde, Indra jumped in, ordering the Myrmidons to form a protective wall. They pushed back the prince and his army, giving Gustus time to drag the lifeless woman away. The giant tried his best not to jostle her body, lest the sword still protruding from her stomach would inflict even more damage. He also ignored the stains of blood left in the sand in their wake. Once he was far enough from the battle, he lifted the blonde’s body as gently as he could, and carried her to the healers’ tent, praying the general would survive. If she didn’t, no one would be able to stop the Commander from running to the Trojan walls in a blind rage and attempting to take the city by herself. 

*****

In their tent, Clarke and Lexa had left their bed, too anxious about the battle and their lover to feel comfortable on the furs. The blonde was tidying the place while the older woman sharpened her sword and polished her armor. The regularity of the movements involved had always been soothing for her, whenever she couldn’t sleep in anticipation of a fight or when the adrenaline was running too high to allow her to rest.

The sun was rising in the sky, signaling that it was almost time for breakfast, when Tris, one of the youngest Myrmidons, entered their private quarters unannounced. The girl was one of Anya’s most recent recruits, the general having taken her under her wing after the girl’s parents had died of a fever a few years before. She shadowed the tall blonde wherever she went, and Lexa had a feeling the young brown-haired warrior would have become Anya’s new _eromenos_ if the two of them hadn’t continued their relationship. In fact, it was her lover’s affection for the girl that stopped the brunette from striking her for entering the tent like she owned the place. However, when she saw the look on Tris’s face, she realized that something terrible had happened, and stood so fast her chair toppled.

“Commander, Anya has been injured. It’s serious. She’s at the healers’ tent. Luna sent me to get you and Clarke,” the girl panted, looking like she was going to throw up despite her training.

“By all the gods, what have I done?” Lexa whispered out loud, guilt crushing her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aspis (pl. aspides) = the heavy wooden shield, sometimes covered with a thin sheet of bronze on its outer layer, used by the ancient Greek infantry, with the forearm fastened at the center and the grip at one edge


	13. Chapter 13

In the end, it was Clarke who grabbed the brunette’s hand and dragged the woman in shock out of their tent and towards Luna’s. Thanks to the numerous hours she had spent there patching up training wounds and discussing healing methods with the curly-haired woman, she knew exactly where it was, and made it there in record time. Many of the Myrmidons who hadn’t taken part in the battle had already heard that their beloved general was injured, and they were pacing around the tent, waiting for an update. When they saw their Commander and her lover approach, they parted to let them pass, many murmuring encouragement and prayers along the way. 

Once the two women entered, a healer directed them towards the back of the room, where Anya was lying on a cot, the Trojan sword and arrow still embedded in her stomach and shoulder. If it wasn’t for the small rise of her chest, they would have thought she was already on her way to Hades.

“What happened?” the brunette inquired while Clarke rushed to their lover’s side to see how she could help.

“Roan,” Gustus replied between gritted teeth. “She fought him valiantly, but an archer got her in the shoulder during their fight, and the prince took advantage of it and injured her. Indra and the others are still there, they covered me while I brought her here.”

“I see,” she answered, her jaw so tense it was a miracle her teeth didn’t shatter under the pressure. There would be hell to pay for this, and Roan would get what was coming for him soon. But first, she couldn’t bring herself to leave her cousin, not without knowing if she would survive. Her guilt was already too intense, she would never forgive herself if Anya died while she was away.

The following hours were the longest, most stressful of Clarke and Lexa’s lives. The blonde and Luna worked tirelessly to save the general, who hadn’t regained consciousness since the fight. The wounds on her forearm and shoulder, as well as the numerous small ones on her body weren’t too concerning, but the one on her stomach could very well have killed her if it had been an inch closer to the center instead of on her flank. In fact, Clarke thanked the gods many times for their mercy, as only their intervention could explain how the sword missed the kidney and all major organs around and prevented exsanguination. The two healers had to cauterize the internal tissues several times, and ended up sewing the skin back together, which would leave two ugly scars, but Anya made it through the surgery.

“How is she?” Lexa asked, standing up after spending hours immobile on the closest seat.

“If she can survive the next 48 hours, she will live,” Luna replied, wiping the sweat off her forehead. “She was incredibly lucky. But I have to be honest, it will take months for her injury to completely heal. And it is too soon to tell if there will be any permanent damage. She might not be able to fight anymore.”

“I see. Thank you, Luna, and you Clarke, for saving her.”

“Hey, she is going to be OK,” the blonde reassured Lexa, her hand rubbing the brunette’s arm in an attempt to comfort her. “Apart from you, she’s the strongest person I’ve ever seen. It’ll take more than this for her fight to end.”

“This is all my fault,” Lexa said between gritted teeth. “I should have been the one leading our troops and fighting Roan instead of letting her go. I should have known she wouldn’t follow my orders and turn back the second Odysseus was safe, she’s too brave for that. She got injured because of my pride.”

“Lex, this is war. People get injured and killed. You taught me that, remember? There is no telling what could have happened differently if you had fought. Maybe you would be the one lying here, or you would be dead. Or maybe she would still have met him on the battlefield and we would be in the same situation. Don’t torture yourself over things you can’t change.”

“I would have killed him!” Lexa shouted, guilt eating her inside, before storming out of the tent.

Clarke tried to follow her lover to calm her down, but Luna stopped her by grabbing her arm, and shook her head, making her curls bounce around.

“Give her time to cool down. I have never seen her so out of control; this must have really scared her. She’ll come back when she’s ready. Anya needs you more for now.”

“Thank you, Luna. You’re right. I just hope she won’t do anything stupid.”

*****

Four days later, Anya finally regained consciousness, at least long enough for Clarke to make her eat and drink something before giving her medicine for the pain that pushed her back into Morpheus’s arms. The blonde warrior, whom they gently carried back to the three women’s tent, would suffer for a long time, and she was banned from any sort of exercise or straining activity for weeks, but she had survived. Now that she wasn’t worried about losing her cousin, Lexa put on her armor and readied herself to exact revenge. Before she could jump on Xanthus’s back, Clarke was by her side, worry obvious in her sapphire eyes.

“There is nothing I can say to convince you to stay, is there?” she asked with a sad smile. The relation between the two had been tense since Anya’s injury, with Lexa blaming herself and being angry all the time, and Clarke being busy healing the tall blonde and not knowing how to alleviate the brunette’s internal conflict.

“I have to do this. He nearly killed Anya, and she might not be able to fight again. I can’t just do nothing, Clarke.”

“I know,” the blonde sighed. “But I almost lost her too, you know? I don’t want to go through the same thing with you. I can’t just stand there, and watch you die.”

“You’ve never seen me fight. I will be fine,” Lexa replied proudly, before pulling herself up and grabbing the reins. “Stay with Anya, I will return to you, to both of you, soon.”

And without another word, the Commander spurred her mount and galloped towards the high walls that had been taunting her for over three years. Once she was close, she began shouting, loud enough to be heard from the top.

“Roan! Roan! Roan!”

*****

Prince Roan and several generals looked over the parapet to watch the princess of Phthia, dangerous-looking despite the distance. His men had called him as soon as she had appeared and begun to shout his name. He had known the day would come when they would meet on the battlefield, but he hadn’t expected the woman to come all the way to challenge him into a duel. At least, not until he had pushed his sword into the warrior’s cousin and lover.

“I can shoot her,” Finn boasted, his bow already in his hands. “That idiot is so close, I won’t miss.”

“No,” Roan replied, rolling his eyes. His younger brother was a good archer, there was no denying it, but he failed to understand what honor meant. The young prince thought himself too important to die in battle like a common infantryman, which was why he preferred the bow over short-range weapons. “Open the doors. Fetch me my armor.”

On his way to the gate, the prince was stopped by his father, who had heard of the commotion at the wall and of the Myrmidon’s challenge. The 50-year-old wrapped his hand around his son’s forearm, in a show of respect, and waited for Roan to return the gesture before speaking.

“I am lucky to call you my son,” King Marcus declared, his eyes shining with unshed tears, “now go and make Troy proud.”

“I will, Father,” the bearded man grunted out, before hugging his father with one arm. He was a son of Troy first; he would die defending its walls and its inhabitants. He only hoped that his day hadn’t come yet.

*****

Lexa was growing impatient, her horse pacing in front of Troy, when the large doors creaked open. Roan slowly stepped out, his armor shining in the sunlight, a new sword at the hip, his shield and spear in hands. When she turned around one last time, Lexa spotted Clarke atop Balius, Gustus and Indra standing near her. She nodded at her lover, a silent “I’m glad you came,” before jumping down her horse, and approaching her opponent.

“You hurt someone dear to me,” the brunette growled, her helmet lifted to show her face. “Now, you die.”

“I would have rather faced you,” the prince shrugged. “Now I get to send both of you to Hades.”

Not bothering to correct his statement by revealing that Anya still lived, Lexa stepped forward, her _doru_ firmly held in her right hand. She let the man thrust his spear first, which caught the side of her shield, but instead of using her own, she immediately pushed her _aspis_ forward, hitting him in the chest. Surprised, Roan groaned in pain and stumbled back.

Lexa could have attempted to strike while he was regaining his footing, but she didn’t want to end it too fast. The man had almost torn her heart apart, he deserved to suffer for that before she killed him. Once he was standing straight again, she went forwards and feinted an attack to the right which was easily parried. When the prince attempted a counterattack, she pivoted, leaving only air where her body had stood an instant before, and slammed her shield against his side.

The brunette was dominating the fight, but Roan hadn’t survived three years of war, not to mention all the previous battles he had been a part of, simply by hiding behind the front lines. He was a seasoned warrior too, and a buff man, relying more on his strength than Lexa. The next time the Commander of the Myrmidons tried to push him with her shield, he pushed back with his and pivoted, managing to make her step back and lose her _aspis_ all at once. Taking advantage of the situation, he aimed his spear at her legs, in the hope to slow her down or immobilize her. But the brunette had already recovered, and used one greave to parry the blow before breaking the weapon shaft with her other foot.

Panting, they both took a moment to regroup. Roan was now yielding his _xiphos_ and shield, while Lexa held her spear in both hands. They continued exchanging blows for a few minutes, cuts appearing on their respective bodies, but neither of them slowed down. The prince eventually lost his shield, rendered useless by a well-placed series of thrusts that cracked it; and Lexa abandoned her damaged spear for her sword not long after. The two fighters continued with their second weapons, sparks and clangs springing with every impact.

The brunette was faster and managed to add a few more cuts to Roan’s collection, but he had strength on his side. Eventually, their swords got caught between them, and he was able to get the upper hand, pushing them towards Lexa’s face. The Commander gritted her teeth, the muscles in her right arm bulging with the pressure, and she found herself with a knee against the ground. In a desperate move, she grabbed the dull blade with her left hand, and, ignoring the blood that started running down her palm and wrist, she pushed back with all her might. Roan, surprised, lost his balance, and Lexa, already up, kicked him in the chest with a cry.

Despite losing his breath, the prince immediately made a backward roll, and sprung back on his feet. The princess of Phthia had anticipated his move, however, and before he could lift his sword to parry, she buried hers in his chest. With blood dribbling from his mouth, Roan dropped his weapon and attempted to remove hers, but Lexa was faster. With a sneer, she pushed it back until the hilt rested against him, and stared at his already lifeless eyes when she stated, “for Anya”.

Roan, crown prince of Troy, was dead when his back landed on the hard ground, eyes fixedly looking at the skies. Lexa pulled her sword out of his warm body and sheathed it, before retrieving a rope from Xanthus’s saddle. Honor would have commanded she left him there for the Trojan to collect and bury, but in her fury, she ignored all protocol and tied his feet to her horse. Then, without a look back towards the high walls where the soldiers watched her with despair and anger, she spurred the chestnut animal towards her camp, dragging the body of the unfortunate prince behind her. She didn’t even slow down when she passed by Clarke and her men, only acknowledging the blonde with a nod. Nonetheless, she heard them turn their mounts around and follow her in silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You should be pretty well-versed by now in ancient Greece weapons and clothing, but just in case:  
> xiphos = the sword  
> doru = the spear  
> aspis = the wooden shield
> 
> For those interested in the original story, here is how this part goes in a nutshell: Patroclus borrows Achilles's armor and leads the Myrmidons to battle, where he is killed by Hector. The Trojan prince takes Achilles's armor and the body is brought back to Achilles who is heart-broken. Achilles receives a new and better armor from Hephaistos and challenges Hector. Hector, too scared to fight him, runs around Troy twice before Athena makes him trip on a stone (I didn't use that in this story because it's kinda lame, so for once I went with the movie scene instead). Achilles kills Hector and drags his body away, although the gods, horrified, protect Hector's body from harm.


	14. Chapter 14

Lexa quietly rode back to the Myrmidons camp, the body of her opponent dragged behind her horse and jerking every time it hit a rock or a piece of wood. Clarke and the others didn’t attempt to catch up with her, and it was alone that she passed the tents and posts that marked off her men’s encampment. The hurrahs and clamor that welcomed the victorious Commander abruptly ended when her soldiers noticed the desecrated corpse tied to Xanthus’s saddle. Ignoring the stares and whispers that followed her all the way to her quarters, Lexa jumped down her horse, detached the rope, and gave the reins to one of her warriors.

“What do we do with the body, Commander? Should we bury it?” the large man asked, his head down in an attempt not to provoke the irate brunette.

“Leave him. No one touches him!” she replied with a sharp tone that left no room for discussion, before entering her tent. Without Clarke’s help, she struggled to remove her armor by herself, but she didn’t want Anya to see her like this, covered in blood and sweat, and the perspective of dealing with a maid who would probably be terrified of her right now sounded like too much trouble. Instead, she jiggled and contorted herself until all the bronze and leather pieces were on the floor, and then she washed her tired body with a cloth as efficiently as she could, before stepping into the sleeping area.

Her cousin seemed to be resting, her chest moving up and down in a slow and regular rhythm that warmed Lexa’s heart. She still appeared a little paler than usual, the consequence of her blood loss, but her skin didn’t have the clammy look that would signal an infection, and her facial features were relaxed. The brunette stood there for several minutes, letting the hammering in her chest settle, until a raspy voice brought her back to reality.

“It’s impolite to stare. Have I taught you nothing?”

“Anya,” she breathed out, relief and guilt bringing tears in her eyes, before sitting on the furs next to her lover, careful not to jolt her. “How are you? You gave us quite the scare.”

“Hurts,” the dirty-blond haired woman replied with a grimace. “I thought my fight was over, that he had gotten me.”

“He won’t touch you again, _Niron_.”

The general tilted her head to take in her younger cousin’s appearance. The bruise on her jaw, the fresh cut on her arm, the cloth tightly wrapped around a thigh that hinted of a wound, and she asked, “Lexa, what happened? What did you do?”

“She challenged Roan to a duel and killed him,” Clarke replied in a tight voice, having entered the tent silently during their interaction. “Then she tied him to her horse and dragged his body all the way here.”

“You did what?!” Anya shouted, her eyes bulging out of their sockets.

“He nearly killed you!” the brunette shouted back in anger, her eyes moving from one of her lovers to the other. “He injured you gravely and almost took you from me. I couldn’t just let him live.”

“Lex…” Anya sighed, one of her hands moving to rest on her cousin’s forearm in an attempt to calm her. “I get why you killed him. I’d have done the same if our positions had been reversed. But taking his body away, tied to your horse? You’re better than that.”

“Maybe I’m not,” the brunette huffed before stomping out of the tent, anger radiating from her tense frame. Clarke looked like she wanted to follow her and continue the argument, but Anya groaned at the same time, and the young blonde immediately sat by her side and took her long hand in hers.

“Are you OK, An?”

“Yes, don’t worry. I just have to remind myself that I need to stay in bed and avoid sudden movements. Thank you for saving my life, by the way, Luna said she couldn’t have done it without you.”

“She gives me too much credit, but you’re welcome. Thank you for not giving up on us.”

“Will she be OK?” Clarke asked after a pause, her chin pointing towards the entrance.

“Yes, she—Myrmidons are not usually encouraged to show emotions, and Lexa, as our Commander, had that lesson drilled into her skull more times than I can count. She has a good heart, and she cares, so much, that sometimes she doesn’t know how to deal with the onslaught of the feelings that she can’t express,” the general sighed. “I’m glad she has you. _We_ have you. You’re teaching us how to be more human, and that makes us better leaders, no matter what some elders might think.”

Clarke lay down against the taller blonde, careful not to apply any pressure on her battered body, and let her head rest against the uninjured shoulder.

“I’m glad I have you too, both of you. I feel like my life started when I met you, back in Lyrnessus. I was only surviving before.”

*****

The night had fallen on the shore of Troy, and there was unrest in the Myrmidons’ camp. No one had dared to go against the princess’s orders and remove the body of the fallen prince, but it would start to smell soon enough, and the sight troubled them. The general and the young blonde hadn’t left their quarters, and after taking a long walk along the water, Lexa had returned to sit near a fire.

When a bearded middle-aged man approached the camp, a hood hiding his features, a Myrmidon stopped him and inquired the purpose of his visit.

“I have business with your Commander,” the stranger stated, his voice betraying a natural authority that made the soldier raise an eyebrow questioningly. After checking him for weapons, he led him to the fire where the brunette was nibbling on a piece of meat, lost in thoughts.

“Commander, this man wishes to talk to you.”

Lexa was in no mood to entertain, but the appearance of the stranger, wearing a cloak clearly of good quality, picked her curiosity, and she gestured for him to sit on a log near her. Once they were alone, the man lifted his hood, revealing his salt and pepper hair and deep wrinkles on his forehead and at the corner of his eyes. He looked like he was in his mid-fifties, with kind brown eyes, though they seemed dull in the firelight.

“What do you want with me?” the Myrmidon asked when he didn’t speak.

“I came here to ask you to return my son to me.”

The statement, and the implication behind it, took the Commander by surprise. She would never have expected King Marcus to walk right into the enemy camp, without any weapon or escort, as if his life was nothing, or that he wouldn’t make a great political prisoner.

“You shouldn’t have come here. If Pike finds out, he’ll have you killed. Go back to Troy, there is nothing for you here,” she replied, her jaw tense.

“Not without Roan. He’s my son, my firstborn. Maybe you’ll understand one day, if the gods are kind enough to bless you with children. There is nothing a parent wouldn’t do for the flesh of their flesh. You already took him from me, let me bury him with our ancestors, that his soul can find peace on his way to Hades.”

“He nearly killed my cousin,” Lexa growled, “he doesn’t deserve peace.”

“Nearly? So, she lives. They met on the battlefield, and he injured her. You’re a warrior. How many cousins, brothers, lovers have you killed? He paid it with his life, how much more will you take from him, from us?”

“I—,” Lexa started, before stopping. In truth, she couldn’t argue with his logic. Though he had taken advantage of Anya’s injury to hurt her, it could have happened to anyone. She had been justified to challenge him, but her subsequent behavior was inexcusable, and they all knew it. She had left the tent in a huff a few hours before because she was mostly mad at herself for disappointing her lovers, not at them for criticizing her.

“Lincoln,” she called out, “make sure someone washes the body of the prince, and return him to Troy with my guest. No one is to hurt him, do you understand?”

The burly man nodded, and left to execute her order, relieved to see that his Commander had gotten a grip on herself. Despite the awkwardness of the situation, King Marcus thanked her for returning his son, and left the camp as quietly as he had come, Lincoln in tow, carrying the wrapped body of Roan.

Once she was sure the king was safely on his way back to his city, the brunette stood and headed for her tent, her stomach tied in knots. She pushed the entrance flap aside, and stepped in. Her two favorite blondes lifted their heads at the sound of her boots, and she sat on the furs, her eyes staring at the ground.

“King Marcus was just here,” she started, not giving the two women time to ask what she had done to him before saying, “I returned Roan’s body to him.”

“I’m sorry for the way I acted,” she continued after taking a deep breath. “I was so blinded by rage and guilt for letting Anya fight in my stead, I dishonored myself, and by extension, you. Will you ever forgive me?”

“Of course,” Anya replied, placing her hand on a strong thigh. “If he had killed or injured you, I’d have lost it too. I’m glad you came to your senses, though.”

“Thank you for returning his body to his father,” Clarke added, standing to walk around the bed and kiss the sad brunette. “I love you, and I’m proud of you for avenging Anya, and doing the right thing in the end,” she whispered, before joining their lips once more, and straddling Lexa.

“I agreed to a truce of 12 days, so they can give him a proper funeral,” the Commander said, her breath quickening. “Once it is done, the Myrmidons will resume their position on the battlefield. I have hidden here long enough, it is time. You were right, I don’t have to fight for Pike, but I will fight for Greece, so we can all return home.”

Not many more words were exchanged after that. Clarke had already started grinding on the hardening cock, and Lexa removed their clothes as quickly as she could before lying on the beautiful body of her lover and entering her, savoring the fact that she had survived her duel. She kept a slow pace, breaking down all their walls one by one, until they came in a concerto of moans and whimpers that echoed into the night. Anya, immobilized by her injury, was banned from joining the fun, but the two women, once they were done making love, made sure to bring her to her own release with their hands and mouths. And then they started again, and again, reminding themselves that they were still alive, and together, and that no one could know for sure what might happen the following morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> niron = loved one, lover  
> Trigedasleng in this fic is sparsely used. Imagine all the characters speak ancient Greek, and it is a dialect common in Phthia. Clarke picks up a few words over time.
> 
> Reminder: I chose to spread the events over a span of 10 years to give those three time to fall in love and all, but in the original story, all the events from Briseis's capture, Achilles and Agamemnon's fight, Hector's death, to Achilles's death happen during the 9th year of the war.


	15. Chapter 15

The Achaean army was celebrating its fourth year on the Trojan land, and yet the walls still stood tall and proud. Despite the loss of their beloved crown prince, and the return of the Myrmidons on the battlefield, the war was still in a stalemate. Every yard won was paid with litters of blood, and often retaken within a week. So much trampling and fighting had happened between the beach and the walls that the elders wondered if the grass there would ever grow again. The Greeks had buried or burned more than a quarter of their soldiers, and though they had inflicted similar losses to the Trojans, their numbers seemed as infinite as during the first year of the war.

True to her words, Lexa had resumed her position at the head of her army, and fought with more ardor than ever. Though the prophecy heard in Phthia still rang in her ears, she hoped to be able to return home one day and show Clarke the beauty of her hometown.

After weeks spent supine, Anya had finally been allowed by Clarke and Luna to resume her training, although she wasn’t back on the battlefield yet. The prolonged inactivity had seen her muscles melt like butter under the sun, leaving her weaker than she had been in more than 10 years. Not one to let circumstances dictate her life, the tall blonde was determined to regain her strength and her position at Lexa’s right side during fights, but they all knew that it would take time. The wound on her stomach had healed and didn’t bother her too much anymore, except when she twisted her upper body too far or bent for long periods of time. Between the burns and the tread used to close it, she would forever sport an ugly 7-inch jagged scar on either side of her flank that both her lovers couldn’t help but trace with their fingers from time to time, thanking the gods for letting her live.

*****

One day, the battle ran until late into the night. Normally, once the sun was setting, the fighting would stop and both sides would collect their wounded and their dead. Yet, on that particular occasion, the soldiers were fighting over a portion of land near a river that had been coveted for many weeks, and neither the Greeks nor the Trojans wanted to call for a stop until they had won. They were eventually forced to retreat, as it became difficult under the moonlight to distinguish foes from friends, and both sides agreed to leave the bodies for the night and retrieve them in the morning instead.

Among a pile of pell-mell gathered corpses, a young Trojan archer regained consciousness with a start. Covered with blood as she was, the metallic taste of iron made her grimace, and she sputtered thick spits of red-coated saliva. Once the shock of waking up in a mire had worn off, her brain registered the pain in her left leg, making her grunt. With the amount of blood, other body fluids, and mud, it was difficult to assess her injury but she recalled being hit by a spear during the brunt of the battle before passing out. From what she could see, the weapon had broken and the tip was still embedded in her thigh, protruding on both sides. Lacking both the tools and the medical knowledge to treat such an injury, she decided to leave it inside.

The battle had taken place not far from the Achaean camp, and the dark-haired woman knew that she didn’t stand a chance of making it back to Troy with her wound. She would die of blood loss before reaching the gates, and since no one was in sight, she couldn’t call for help. She would die here, alone, only a few miles away from her city. And the worst part was, nobody would even notice. Her family was long gone, and the few friends she had made over the years were either in prison for theft, dead on the battlefield, or in the case of one long-lost one, missing.

The woman gritted her teeth and wiped the tear that had escaped from her dark brown eyes. If this was going to be her last night on this earth, she would make it count. Troy was too far, but the Greeks weren’t. As long as she drew breath, she could inflict some damage on their camp and ships. Her beloved bow was nowhere to be seen, probably broken during the fight, but she still had her quiver and some of the all-black arrows she proudly made herself. After rummaging through the bodies, she found a Greek bow she could use. It was shorter than hers, but she was grateful for it, as it would require less strength to pull the string. Holding it carefully in one hand, she began to crawl towards the noises and the fires indicating her enemies’ position.

Once she was close enough, the young archer managed to light one of her arrows with an unattended fire, pulled as far as she could without groaning in pain, and released it. The flamed projectile soared through the night sky, before going down in a bell-shaped curve, and buried itself in a tent, setting it ablaze. The men around shouted and ran to get water, worried as they were that with the wind, the fire would catch more tents and spread widely. Welcoming the distraction, the Trojan soldier nocked another arrow, and released it in a slightly different direction. The ships were too far from her position, and she couldn’t move without risking being discovered, so she would have to settle for setting as many tents on fire as she could, and hope some sleeping soldiers would burn with them.

However, luck could only be on her side for so long, and as she readied her sixth projectile, a well-aimed kick knocked the bow out of her hands, and strong arms wrapped around her waist. She tried to fight back, but between the exhaustion of the battle and her nightly adventure, and her wound, all she could do was cry in pain when her leg collided with the massive body holding her. She felt herself being carried away, until the man dropped her in front of a larger tent, at the center of that part of the camp.

“Commander,” he spoke, “this is the archer responsible for the fires around. I caught her, an arrow lit and ready to fly.”

The brunette looked at her, her mouth thin and angry, her eyebrows frowned below a high forehead, her hair pulled at the back of her head in tight braids. She was beautiful despite the darkness, but it was the war paint that made the archer tremble, for she recognized the woman she had been lucky to never come close to on the battlefield: Lexa of Phthia, the leader of the Myrmidons. Cursed be the gods! Of all the parts of the Greek camp she could have found herself into, she had crawled right into the area allocated to the most terrifying of the Achaeans fighters. But before the Commander could decide what to do with her, her companion, a tall and lean woman with almond-shaped eyes and long dirty-blonde hair kneeled by her side and pulled one of her arrows from the quiver still hanging from her back.

“You!” she growled in fury. “You were the one with the black arrows who injured me before!”

The warrior unsheathed her _xiphos_ from her side at once and lifted it, aiming it for the archer’s chest. She was ready to strike, when the flap of the large tent flew open, and a voice she hadn’t heard in years made itself heard.

“Raven?”

*****

Shouts and warnings of fire echoed around the camp while Clarke lay in the bathtub, relaxing after a long day of training. Her two lovers had left her minutes ago to inquire what was happening, and not wanting to be caught by surprise, she quickly dried herself and exited their quarters. To her utter astonishment, she found them both near the entrance, Lexa looking at Lincoln standing behind a dark-haired young woman lying on the ground, while Anya stood tall and about to strike the stranger down. Although, when she caught sight of the woman’s face in the firelight, she realized that she was not a stranger at all, but someone from her past she owed a great deal to.

“Raven?”

Luckily, her voice and the foreign name that escaped her lips surprised Anya enough that she stopped her blade, and Clarke took advantage of the confusion to approach them and hold her lover’s arm.

“Please don’t. She’s my friend.”

“Clarke, she’s an enemy,” Lexa stated. “She started the fires around and burned down some tents. We can’t simply let her walk out of here.”

“And she’s the one who injured me over two years ago; I recognized the raven black arrows,” the general added, the mask of fury back on her face in an instant.

The former Trojan’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise, and she kneeled to grab one of the arrows that had spilled from the quiver. Indeed, there could be no doubt about it. She distinctively remembered pulling an identical one out of Anya’s side, back when she was resisting her attraction for the two warriors who now had her heart. She understood the general’s anger. The wound had been painful and had put her out of commission for a couple of weeks. But it had also brought them closer and, besides, she couldn’t let them kill her oldest friend without a fight. Turning towards Lexa, her hand still rubbing Anya’s arm in a silent prayer, she pleaded.

“Please, let her live. She’s the only person in Troy who came to my help when Finn harassed me. She was the one who interrupted when he tried to force himself on me. I owe her a debt.”

Lexa’s jaw tensed at the dilemma in front of her. Sparing the life of an enemy who had entered their camp and sowed chaos would anger her men. Yet at the same time, ordering her execution would break Clarke’s heart. Not to mention the fact that, as the blonde had mentioned, she was indebted to the archer, and therefore so was Lexa as far as she was concerned. Noticing the wound on the stranger’s thigh, she found a way to buy herself some time to gather her thoughts and converse with her cousin.

“She’s losing blood. Bring her to Luna,” she told one of the men nearby, Ryder, before turning towards Clarke with a warning look. “I haven’t decided her fate yet. And Anya has her say in this matter too.”

“I understand,” the blonde replied with a tight smile, before letting out a deep exhalation. “Thank you anyway, for not killing her on the spot. She’s a good person, I swear.”

The brunette didn’t reply but acknowledged the comment with a nod, and let her young lover follow Ryder into Luna’s tent, presumably to catch up with her friend. She felt a body grow closer to hers, and she didn’t need to turn around to know that it was her cousin.

“What are we going to do, Lex? If what Clarke said is true, and I don’t believe she’d lie to us, then that girl saved her from dishonor and a cruel fate. Killing her now would be a poor show of gratitude.”

“You would agree to let her live?” Lexa asked, surprise coloring her voice. “You were the one she injured after all, and you wanted her head a minute ago.”

“I did, but that was before I knew who she was and what she had done. I only saw an enemy who had sneaked into our camp under the cover of the night to wreak havoc, and the person who had injured me. And though she did those things, there is also more to her now.”

“So, you would forgive her actions in light of one good deed?”

“It’s not really my decision to absolve her or not of what she has done tonight, it’s yours,” the general shrugged. “But I will forgive her for my injury, because it happened a long time ago, we were on the battlefield, and she saved one of the women I love.”

“I need some time to decide,” the brunette said after a moment, before squeezing her lover’s arm. “Thank you for your honesty and wisdom, _Niron_.”

And with that, the Commander watched her cousin return to their tent, before turning her head towards the healers’ area where her other lover was probably helping Luna take care of her friend. A friend whose life was now in Lexa’s hands. _When did my life become so complicated_ , she wondered, before sitting by the fire to think about what she ought to do.


	16. Chapter 16

Clarke spent the next couple of days at the healers’ tent catching up with the friend she hadn’t seen since that fateful night she had run away from Troy and its threats. At first, Raven was too exhausted from her wound and nocturnal adventure to question how the blonde had found herself living with the Myrmidons. She lay flat on the bed, groaning with pain every time she moved her left leg, earning herself tuts from Luna. Though the Trojan’s injury, once sutured, wasn’t cause for deep concern, the curly-haired healer had remained by her side ever since Ryder had carried the tanned-skin archer into the tent. Clarke hadn’t thought much of it at first, simply assuming that Luna didn’t want to anger Lexa by losing her prisoner, but after two days she began to wonder if her over-the-top dedication didn’t have a more selfish and personal motive. As far as she knew, the healer enjoyed the company of both men and women, and Raven was very beautiful.

On the evening of the third day, the archer was finally well enough to sustain a proper conversation, and Clarke knew that it was time to tell her everything that had happened to her during the five previous years. She only hoped that her friend would understand and not judge her for falling in bed with the enemies. She started by explaining how, after running away from Finn’s overtures and her mother’s expectations, she had found herself in Lyrnessus. The old priest there had taken pity on her and allowed her to enter the service of Apollo. The life at the temple hadn’t always been easy, despite the rich offerings brought by the believers, most were for the god and the maintenance of the building, and the maidens led a frugal life. The lack of privacy and the hard work required of her had been difficult to adjust to for the 16-year-old, but to this day she didn’t regret her decision, as she could only imagine what would have happened if she had stayed in Troy. It was when she recounted her encounter with Anya that Raven interrupted her for the first time.

“You mean she threatened you and took you as a prisoner? Oh, Clarke,” she said, with concern and pity in her voice. “And you’ve been their captive for three years?”

“No, it’s—it’s more complicated than that. She did take me as a prisoner, but she never mistreated me or threatened me. In fact, I tried to kill myself because I didn’t want to be sold as a slave, and she stopped me. She promised no soldier would hurt me, and she kept her word. She even made me ride her horse from that first evening instead of pulling me behind like the others.”

“Fine, she sounds like she was smitten from the start. Which, by the way, is hard to believe once you’ve met her. I swear I thought she was going to gut me that night; she looked like _Lyssa_.”

“I know she can appear cold and unyielding,” Clarke replied with a smile, “but she is also loyal and very kind once you know her.”

“Mh, if you say so. By the way, how come she’s still alive? There were rumors in Troy that she’d been killed in battle by Roan. I was surprised to see her in the flesh.”

“She was gravely injured,” the blonde admitted, a frown visible on her face at the terrible memories of that time. “We managed to save her and she’s getting back in shape, but she hasn’t returned to the battlefield yet.”

“I see. I guess the princess’s rage makes sense then. How did she react when Anya brought you back from Lyrnessus?” Raven inquired.

“She tried to scare me at first, and I think she was a little jealous of Anya’s behavior towards me, but she showed me kindness too. When we reached the camp, she decided not to sell me to the slave merchants, and I have been living with them ever since.”

“So, you started sleeping with them out of gratitude?” Raven asked, and her tone, as well as the implication made the blonde bristle. She couldn’t keep the anger out of her voice when she replied.

“As a matter of fact, I didn’t. Though they never hurt me, I still saw them as enemies. They treated me kindly, even when I was nothing more than a prisoner and a servant. I was attracted to them almost immediately, but I resisted for months, and they didn’t force me.”

“If you must know,” she added over her shoulder as she was moving towards the exit, “it was after you injured Anya with your arrow that the three of us got closer. I nursed her back to health, and couldn’t deny anymore how much I had fallen for them.”

And with that, Clarke strode out of the room, leaving her friend frowning on the bed.

“You should be more careful,” Luna warned her as she moved the furs behind Raven’s neck to make her more comfortable. “Whether you approve of her relationship with the Commander and the general or not, you’re only alive because she pleaded with them. No one else could have saved your life earlier.”

“I know,” Raven grumbled. “But still, it’s not easy to accept. I hadn’t seen her in years and thought her in Lyrnessus, and instead, I find her here, living in the middle of the Greek camp and sleeping with our enemies.”

“Maybe it was easier for her because she isn’t a soldier?” Luna hypothesized with a shrug. “She considered us as enemies at first, but she never met us on the battlefield, or lost comrades to our weapons.”

“Yeah, maybe. And how about you? Aren’t you angry for having to treat a Trojan?”

“No. I am a Myrmidon, and therefore trained in the art of war. But I see myself as a healer first. These hands can wield weapons and have shed blood, and yet they are much more talented at saving lives. Besides,” the curly-haired woman added with a smirk, “it would be a shame to let such a beauty die.”

Raven’s cheek turned a light pink at the compliment that contrasted with the cocky smile pulling at her lips. There was nothing wrong with flirting a little she thought, as she would hopefully return to Troy soon enough anyway. And besides, the healer had saved her life, and she wasn’t a typical Myrmidon, so it didn’t really count, did it?

*****

A few days later, Lexa was on her way to the healers’ tent to let Raven know of her decision when she stopped dead in her tracks and did a double-take at the training pit. At the center, a short young brunette was fighting a man twice her side. And losing, pretty badly, if the blood trickling down her chin was any indication. As the princess was watching, the girl attacked with a series of strong but uncoordinated blows of her staff, forcing her opponent to defend until he saw an opening and slammed his own weapon into her side, sending her rolling on the ground. To her credit, the young woman jumped back on her feet almost immediately, despite the pain visible on her face, and went on the offensive again. The show wouldn’t have been so surprising if the girl had been a Myrmidon, which she wasn’t, and if Lexa hadn’t recognized her at once. Though she had never formally met or fought together, she resembled her half-brother enough that no doubt was possible. Octavia, the princess of Sparta and younger sister of King Bellamy was in her camp. And she was getting her ass kicked.

Lexa spotted Indra looking over the match and approached her at once, inquiring as to why Octavia was here and no one was stopping the fight. After a sigh, the dark-skinned general explained that the girl had come to her in the morning, and for several days before that, and asked to train with the Myrmidons. Indra had refused, not wanting to get into a situation with Bellamy, and because soldiers normally stayed with their own contingent, but the young woman was adamant. She had so stubbornly challenged all the Myrmidons around that Indra had finally yielded that morning and allowed her a shot. After observing the fight for a couple more minutes, Lexa agreed with her general and old friend. The girl had spirit, but her training had been superficial. She was all rage and no control or strategy. Before Octavia could get seriously injured, as she refused to back down, Lexa stepped forward and interrupted.

“Octavia, why are you here? Why do you want to train with my men?” she asked.

“Because the Myrmidons are the best fighters in all Greece,” the girl replied, spitting out some saliva mixed with blood. “I want to improve, but my brother refuses to train me, and the teachers he found are idiots.”

“Though I understand your feelings, I can’t go against King Bellamy’s wishes.”

“Please, give me a chance. I won’t disappoint you,” the young brunette pleaded, though it visibly cost her to do so as her jaw tensed. “He won’t even know I’m here. I have my own tent at our camp, and he hasn’t visited or called for me in weeks.”

After consulting silently with Indra, Lexa relented.

“Very well. Indra will train you like we do the Myrmidons. It won’t be easy, and it will be painful, but you seem determined. You should know, however, that if King Bellamy hears of this and bans you from coming back, I won’t be able to intervene,” she warned the girl.

“Thank you, Commander,” Octavia bowed slightly, to hide her smile more than show respect, and Lexa could have sworn she heard Indra roll her eyes at the prospect of training the excitable Spartan.

Now that the unexpected situation was sorted out, the princess of Phthia resumed her mission and walk towards Luna’s tent. There, she found her blonde lover in the middle of a conversation with the Trojan.

“Raven, please! You know it’s not safe there,” Clarke insisted as she hit the bed with her fist in a display of frustration.

Lexa wondered what had her so upset, but not wanting to be rude by eavesdropping, she cleared her throat once to call their attention. If the archer had any fear as to what might become of her, she hid it well, as she acknowledged the brunette with a nod without flinching.

“I came to let you know that you are free to leave. We will lend you a horse to carry you back to Troy.”

She had expected her statement to be welcomed with joy and relief, but to her surprise, neither Clarke nor Raven seemed delighted at the news. They both sported thoughtful looks on their faces, mixed with apprehension in the blonde’s case. After a quiet minute, the archer spoke.

“Actually, I was wondering if you would allow me to stay?” she asked somewhat reluctantly, but with a small smile in her friend’s direction. “Clarke has been trying to persuade me not to return to the city for days now, and I think she might be right. No matter how long it takes, your army will eventually conquer Troy, I do not doubt it, and I would rather not be there when you do.”

“You want to remain here, with us?” Lexa inquired as her eyebrows shot high with astonishment.

“It’s not like I have anything waiting for me in Troy anyway,” the black-haired woman shrugged. “Might as well stay with my friend. But I’m warning you, I won’t take up arms against the Trojans. Not that I could even if I wanted to...”

She punctuated her last words with a soft tap on her left leg, and Lexa understood what she meant. Luna had informed her already that, though the wound was healing well, the woman would limp for the rest of her life.

“I can work the forge, I used to do so in Troy before becoming an archer,” Raven offered, and Lexa was happy to accept, as she had seen with her own eyes the effectiveness of the arrows the woman had made in the past.

On her way out, she smiled at Clarke who looked like a heavy weight had been removed from her shoulders. If she could understand her lover’s reaction at the news that Raven was staying with them, the clear happiness on Luna’s face was more puzzling. Was there something in the Trojan water that made the Myrmidons fall for their enemies? She would have to investigate the matter before it became impossible for them to continue this war.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyssa = the spirit of mad rage and frenzy in Greek mythology


	17. Chapter 17

One morning, Clarke was tidying the tent while Lexa, Anya, and most of the Myrmidons were fighting on the battlefield. The three of them had made love most of the night, and she smiled as she remembered the wonderful feeling of her lovers coming inside her. Suddenly, a bout of nausea crept on her, forcing her to run towards a large container where she emptied the content of her stomach with gruesome noises.

“Clarke, are you OK?” she heard a voice coming from the outside of the thick fabric.

Curse the gods, of course, someone would walk past right as she was retching. No waiting for an answer that didn’t seem to come, Raven limped inside the tent, her left leg dragging behind her. Despite Luna’s best efforts and dedication over the previous six months, the archer would never fully recover from her wound. She refused to let it slow her down, however, and while working at the forge, she had managed to build a strange contraption that tightened around her knee and helped her walk with more ease.

“Hey, are you well? It sounded like you were sick.”

“Yes, I’m fine. Thank you. Must have been something I ate, the fish smelled a bit funny this morning,” the blonde replied with a shrug.

“Are you sure? No one else is sick. And I remember you being unwell a few days ago too. Come on, I’ll take you to Luna. She should examine you. And that’ll give me an excuse to visit her today.”

“No!” she replied a little too fast, surprising her friend who frowned at the blonde’s unusual reticence. When Clarke wasn’t at the training pit or in her tent, she could usually be found in the healers’ area, helping with wounds and minor injuries. Seeing her refuse to go there was strange, to say the least.

“Clarke, come on. If your lovers hear that I found out you were sick and didn’t help, they’ll have my head. I’m sure Luna will figure it out, don’t worry. She’ll have you back to your usual self in no time.”

“There is nothing Luna can do.”

“How would you know? Unless... You already know what you have,” the dark-haired woman muttered. “What’s the matter? I can’t be that serious. You’re scaring me.”

In lieu of a response, Clarke let herself fall on her knees and sobs began to shake her frame. Raven couldn’t remember ever seen her friend so distraught, except during the whole ordeal with Finn, and her concerns grew tenfold at the emotional display.

“Clarke, please, talk to me. Whatever it is, I’m here for you. Did someone hurt you? Or threaten you in any way? Lexa or Anya?” she said the last part with disbelief coloring her voice, but no one could ever be sure of what was happening behind closed doors and curtains.

“My moon blood is late,” the blonde finally managed to utter in-between sniffles. “It is a couple of moons late to be exact. I realized it about a week ago.”

“So, you haven’t told your lovers?”

The blonde shook her head and let out a loud sigh, hiding her head in the crook of her friend’s neck, who had kneeled by her side. Raven kept rubbing circles on her back until Clarke calmed down a little, but her reaction still puzzled the archer. As far as she knew, the blonde wanted to be a mother one day. At least she used to when they were young girls dreaming about their future and prospective partners. Granted, she had imagined herself married to some Trojan nobleman back then. Maybe the root of the problem lay somewhere there.

“Why not? Do you fear they won’t take it well?”

“I don’t—I don’t know,” the blonde stuttered, tears falling down her cheeks once more. “What if they don’t want children? Or what if they don’t want them with me, a former enemy? Maybe things would be different if we were in Phthia, but raising a child here, in a war encampment, near the constant battlefield? What if they don’t want me to keep this baby?”

“Clarke, shh,” Raven replied, hugging her friend tighter. “I know I haven’t always been their greatest supporter, but those two are crazy about you. A blind man would see it. The circumstances might not be ideal, but they will be over the moon, I’d bet my nicest bow on it.”

“And if they aren’t, I’ll kick their gorgeous asses,” she added with a wink, making the blonde chuckle. Even without her wounded leg, both knew that in close combat, Lexa and Anya could defeat the dark-haired Trojan with their hands tied behind their back. But still, it was a comforting thought to have a friend standing by her side, and Clarke felt the warmth of hope in her chest. She had kept her secret long enough, it was time. Once her lovers came back from the fight, she would inform them that she was with child, and hope they would rejoice at the news.

*****

At that very moment, a couple of miles away from the shore, the Myrmidons were fighting with the ferocity that built their legend. Ever since Anya had recovered enough to be allowed back on the battlefield, her men had increased their efforts, not wanting to appear slacking in front of the general who had survived death. Not to be outdone, Lexa and Indra also had to step up their game, and as a result, the contingent from Phthia had achieved several victories in a short span of time.

On that particular day, they had managed to push the Trojan army back further than usual, all the way to the walls in fact. The archers posted at the top were a problem, but thanks to Odysseus’s suggestion a few weeks before, the Greeks moved around with their large reinforced shields above their heads, like a wooden cover, and most arrows embedded themselves on them without causing much damage to the troops. Seeing that their usual tactics weren’t working and that they were going to be crushed by their enemies, the Trojan generals had no other choice but to sound the retreat and order the large gates of the city to be opened.

“Follow them!” Lexa yelled immediately, seeing the opportunity to enter for the first time in four and a half years. “Don’t let them close the doors! Myrmidons, forward!”

The princess jumped over the body of a fallen opponent, his stomach cut so deeply its content had spilled on the sand, and ran after the fleeing army with a terrifying cry, not waiting for Anya or the others. Her _doru_ lay somewhere among the piles of bodies, and not wanting to waste an instant looking for another one, she tightened her fingers around the guard of her sword. It would have to do for now.

Some of the retreating soldiers, sensing the danger that followed them, turned around to face her. The closest one thrust his spear towards her face with desperation. Not even slowing down, Lexa dodged the blow with a side step to the left before plunging her weapon into his open side. His body hadn’t landed on the ground yet that she had already pulled her _xiphos_ out and made it to the next Trojan. He was only a young man, barely 18, but such were the horrors of war, and the brunette didn’t hesitate when she cut his throat with the edge of her blade. If she couldn’t show mercy, she at least made sure his death was swift, rather than letting him agonize for hours among the blood and shit of his fallen comrades. Her third adversary was a woman, tall and proud, her sword barely trembling when she aimed it towards Lexa’s face. Out of respect for her bravery, the Commander slowed down and took the time to engage in a proper fight rather than barrel her way through. They exchanged a few blows, metal clanging against metal and wood, teeth gritted and muscles burning under the efforts. But despite her courage and impressive physique, the Trojan was no match for the Commander, and quickly ended up on her back, her eyes facing a blue sky she couldn’t see anymore.

So much death, so many young lives wasted and cut short before they could truly be lived. Was this woman someone’s lover, friend, or daughter? And the boy she had killed a moment before, had he even known what love was before the hubris of men and selfishness of his prince had brought them face to face? Lexa didn’t have time to reflect on this, her enemies encircling her, but she could sense that sleep wouldn’t come easily to her that night. Shaking herself out of her thoughts, she continued forwards, towards the opening to the city that had taunted her for so long.

The gates of the city were large and magnificent, made of sculpted oak and reinforced with iron bars. Unfortunately for the Trojans, they were also extremely heavy and difficult to maneuver. Once they had been pulled to let the soldiers back inside, the men in charge didn’t have enough time to close them again before Lexa and some Myrmidons burst through. They pushed and pushed with all their might, but the opening remained large enough to allow their enemies to enter two by two. The Trojans took position and started pushing back but the Myrmidons, galvanized by their new conquest, refused to back down. They shouted and advanced like demons, oblivious to the beauty of the buildings richly decorated and of the paved streets. If only they could have come under different circumstances, how they could have appreciated the architecture of the temples, the delicious food offered directly from the stalls located on each side of the main road, or the treasures hidden in the palace overlooking the city. Instead, they were painting the streets red as the battle progressed, and would have set the houses on fire if given the chance.

At their head, Lexa was fighting like Athena or Ares incarnate. With large twirls and threatening thrusts, she kept her adversaries at a distance while more of her men entered the city. Neither Anya nor Indra had made it in yet, as they had been further away during their run towards the entrance, but she did not doubt that her lover would soon be by her side to help her conquer the city, at last. Her smirk growing at the prospect, she stepped forward and pierced through a Trojan’s eye with the tip of her sword, killing him instantly. She pulled her weapon back and, with the adrenaline running high in her system, she failed to feel the pain in her left foot at first. It was only when she tried to move that the fletching hit her right leg and made her look down. An arrow had gone through her left heel, protruding on each side. As she went to break the shaft and pull it out, a wave of dizziness struck her. Her limbs felt heavier than lead all of the sudden, and her clammy hands couldn’t hold her sword or her shield anymore. When both hit the ground with a loud thump, she tried to bring a hand towards her eyes and wipe away the fog clouding them, but to no avail. In her weakened state, she failed to notice the Trojan hoplite aiming his spear at her.

The weapon would have transpierced her heart if Anya hadn’t jumped in at the last second, deviating the blow with her _aspis_. Before the man could lift his arm and attack again, Octavia, who had followed the general, hit him with her own _doru_. Anya let go of her sword in order to catch her lover with her right arm before she could hit the ground, and began dragging her towards the exit. Encouraged by the sight of an injured and passed out Lexa, the Trojans caught a second wind and pushed the Greeks back with renewed vigor. Sensing the change of tide, Indra had no other choice but to yell, “Myrmidons, retreat!” as she and Octavia covered Anya and Lincoln while they carried a lifeless Commander away. None of them paid much attention to the cheering Trojans as the gates of the city finally closed, or to the grinning prince boasting that he had slain the mighty princess of Phthia with an arrow guided by Apollo. 


	18. Chapter 18

Near the center of the Myrmidons’ camp, Clarke was pacing around a fire, waiting for the battle to finish and for her lovers to return to her. Since her conversation with Raven a couple of hours before, she had been wondering how to break the news of her pregnancy to them. Rationally thinking, neither of the two warriors had ever said anything against having children, or being mothers. But it was also because, as Clarke’s hormone-swirling brain liked to remind her, the topic hadn’t come up between them. Except for the soldiers of Phthia and a few heroines, the vast majority of the Greek army was made of men. Some slaves and prostitutes could be found walking around the camp for when the warriors needed to forget the horrors of the war for a few moments, but those women didn’t generally stay long. As a result, most of the Greeks hadn’t seen anyone below 15 in years, and the three lovers hadn’t had any occasion to talk about potential offspring. Considering how often they had sex, now that she thought about it, it was truly a wonder that she hadn’t gotten pregnant sooner, and they should have discussed it before.

The blonde was going back and forth between her tent and the healers’, lost in thoughts, when a commotion made her turn around. Several warriors rushed into the camp, grim and worried looking. The blood on their faces and equipment indicated that they had been part of the group sent to fight that morning, and Clarke was about to ask for news when a sight made her stop dead in her tracks. In the middle of the group, surrounded by warriors forming an impenetrable wall, Anya and Lincoln were carrying a too pale Lexa. The Commander’s face was ashen, with beads of sweat rolling down her temples, the hair that had escaped her iconic braid matted against her forehead. Her eyes looked glassy and bulged out in an expression that Clarke could only describe as terror, though it seemed so foreign on the proud princess’s beautiful features that it was hard to tell.

The blonde stood there, immobile, unable to comprehend the situation, and if not for Anya shouting, “Clarke, we need your help!” she probably would have remained rooted for hours. Thankfully, her instincts kicked in, and she followed them to the healers’ tent, half-running. She preceded them inside, pulling the curtain to the side to facilitate their entry all while shouting at Luna and the healers to prepare themselves and gather supplies. To her credit, the curly-haired Myrmidon barely faltered when she saw the state of her beloved Commander and long-time friend before ordering Anya and Lincoln to deposit Lexa on a bed of furs and move aside. The general looked like she wanted to refuse and remain by the brunette’s side, holding her hand, but a nod from Clarke convinced her to let them work.

“What is wrong with her?” Luna asked as she and Clarke removed Lexa’s armor and cleaned the blood on her body and face. The state of the princess puzzled them. She didn’t appear to be seriously injured, and the red liquid of life covering her clothes turned out not to have come from her. And yet, she looked like she couldn’t breathe, her face becoming bluer by the minute, and her body was as rigid as a corpse. If not for the eyes moving jerkily, they would have thought she was dead.

“I don’t know,” Anya replied between gritted teeth. “We made it inside Troy for the first time, she was spearheading the attack. And then suddenly she seemed dizzy, she let go of her sword and passed out in my arms. The only injury I noticed is the arrow in her foot.”

At those words, the two healers turned their heads down the Commander’s legs, paying attention to the arrow protruding on both sides of her heel for the first time. In their haste to find the cause of her catatonic state, they had been looking for an injury on her head or chest, neglecting the most obvious one. Noticing the fletching, Clarke paled and, with a trembling hand approach the arrowhead. Careful not to touch it, she sniffed around for a moment before cursing under her breath.

“What’s wrong?” Luna inquired, sensing her friend’s panic.

“Finn,” the blonde spat. “I recognize his colors, he showed them to me before and boasted about how he could kill a man from 200 yards away. And that, even if the injury wasn’t immediately fatal, the poison on it would take care of them anyway.”

Luna and Anya blanched too at the implication of the statement. Though various poisons and their antidotes were known to the Greeks, they were often considered a weapon of assassins and women, and rare were the warriors who applied some on their blades. It could certainly explain the gravity of Lexa’s state, but gave no indication as to how to treat her, for, unfortunately, Clarke wasn’t privy to which poison the prince of Troy favored. All they had was their observations of the woman’s condition and their general knowledge of medicine.

The princess was lying supine, her breath erratic and painful sounding, her eyes the only part of her body she seemed able to move at will. Her arms remained hypertonic on the bed, as were her legs, and neither Luna nor Clarke managed to bend them when they tried. Though it was too late to prevent the poison from entering the blood system, the healers broke the shaft with great precaution and pulled the arrow out. With a red-hot iron, Luna cauterized both sides of the wound, making Lexa grunt in pain. The brunette had opened her mouth, but no word made it out, her throat too tight to let the air pass.

“What are we going to do?” Clarke asked, her voice colored with worry. “It looks like the poison is making all her muscles cramp. She’s going to suffocate if we can’t find an antidote.”

“I know,” Luna sighed, her hands massaging her temples in an attempt to relieve the tension building behind her dark brown eyes. “But without knowing exactly which substance was used, we might make things worse by giving her the wrong antidote.”

“Do something!” Anya shouted as Lexa seemed about to lose consciousness. “You can’t just let her die!”

The healer said nothing for a few seconds, before suddenly springing into action and climbing on the makeshift bed by Lexa’s side. She placed her hands just below the Commander’s left breast and started applying pressure rhythmically.

“Clarke, count 10 of my moves, pinch her nose and breathe into her mouth,” she ordered, before adding when she noticed the confused looks on both blondes, “I come from a small island near Phthia. This is what we do when fishermen have drowned. Sometimes, they come back. We need to act as her heart and lungs until the poison has left her system. There is no other option.”

Clarke didn’t like the emphasis on “sometimes” placed by the curly-haired woman, but a little hope was better than none. Without arguing, she followed Luna’s instructions and exhaled into the opening surrounded by cold pouty lips. Of all the kisses she and Lexa had exchanged, this one was both the most tragic and the most meaningful. Telling herself that she was breathing life into her lover, literally, she refused to let any morbid thoughts stop her. She continued, over and over, even when her own lungs began to burn and tears ran down her cheeks. Lexa remained immobile, her eyes glassy and unfocused, but she was still alive. It had to be enough for now.

Anya and Luna took turns pressing on the princess’s chest, not stopping even when an ominous crack indicated a fractured rib. They took the risk of puncturing a lung into account and slightly moved their hands, but the broken bone could be dealt with later. Keeping Lexa alive until her lungs could function on their own was the priority.

The three women kept at it for what felt like hours, refusing to give up as long as Lexa could still move her eyes to let them know that she was alive. Sweat shone on their foreheads and necks, their arms trembled under the effort and their breaths were labored, but the sky collapsing wouldn’t have been enough to force them to stop.

“Lexa,” Clarke whispered to the brunette between two kisses of life, her hand gently stroking the fanned-out hair, “please, you have to fight. I need you. Anya needs you. Our child needs you. I know it hurts, and you’re being so brave. Please don’t give up! I don’t want them to grow up without you.”

A tear escaped the corner of the green eyes that couldn’t focus on her and rolled down Lexa’s temple, disappearing into chestnut hair. It was lucky that Luna was the one currently pressing on her chest, as Anya seemed so surprised that she couldn’t move, her mouth hanging open and her eyes bulged.

“You …,” the General eventually stuttered after a long pause, “you are pregnant?”

Any doubt Clarke might have had regarding her lovers’ reaction to her news dissipated the second she saw the brunette’s eyes and heard the vulnerability and amazement in the tall blonde’s voice. The circumstances prevented her from hugging them and express her joy, but she nodded nonetheless and said, “Yes. I found out about it recently. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

The general shook her head, dismissing the apology as unnecessary, and took over for Luna who was growing more exhausted each time she pressed on Lexa’s chest. They continued working in silence, their grunts and huffs the only sound audible in the tent. After another 10 minutes or so, the princess’s right arm twitched, surprising them all. Luna signaled for her two companions to stop, and the three of them held their breath, waiting for a miracle. For a second, nothing happened. And then, and the sight brought tears of joy to their eyes, the bruised chest lifted on its own, before slowly going down. Once, twice, thrice. After at least two hours of anguish and exertion, the Commander was breathing by herself. The green eyes closed as Lexa, exhausted by the whole ordeal, fell into a deep slumber, but her lungs didn’t falter anymore. As the candle marks passed, her breathing eased, color returned to her cheeks, until she looks as peaceful as she usually was after an intense round of lovemaking with her lovers.

Neither Anya nor Clarke left her side for more than a couple of minutes to relieve themselves, sitting on uncomfortable chairs by her bedside, and both had fallen asleep with their heads on the furs when a raspy voice woke them.

“You are really pregnant? I didn’t dream it, did I?”

“Lexa!” Clarke shouted, new tears falling along the tracks left by the previous ones as she hugged the brunette as gently as she could, before placing a tender kiss on the dry lips. “You’re OK! I thought I was going to lose you.”

“You really scared us, _Niron_ ,” Anya added, beaming at her cousin despite her own misty eyes. As terrifying as the general could be on the battlefield or the training grounds, there was a loving, sweet side to her that only the two other women were privy to, and they loved her even more for it.

“I’m sorry,” Lexa groaned as the pain in her ribs began to make itself known. Luna, who had remained nearby to keep an eye on her patient, untangled herself from Raven’s arms to bring her something to lessen it. Once she had drunk the smelly concoction, the brunette looked at Clarke with pleading eyes.

“Please, tell me. Was it all a dream?”

“No, _ai hodness_ ,” the blonde answered with a smile. “It wasn’t a dream. I am with child.”

“I had never been so afraid to die,” the brunette confessed as her lower lip trembled. “It’s not my first injury, and I never feared Hades before, but when I heard you say that, I was terrified. I didn’t want to pass into the afterlife, not without meeting our child.”

“Aw, Lexa,” Clarke breathed out as more wetness appeared on her face and she kissed her lover once more. “I’m sorry. I love you so much.”

“Thank you for not giving up,” Anya whispered as she placed her mouth against Lexa’s forehead and remained there for a few seconds.

It would take several days for the poison to fully leave the Commander’s system, not to mention the wound on her heel and her broken ribs that prevented her from fighting for a few weeks. But she had survived and, thanks to the gods and the efforts of her lovers and Luna, she would get the chance to meet her children.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ai hodness = my love 
> 
> Side notes: In my head, Lexa and Anya’s condition makes their seed less potent than the one of a cisgender male, which is why Clarke didn’t get pregnant sooner.  
> I got the inspiration for the CPR save from an interview I remember reading as a child. An anthropologist was spending time with a tribe in South America when he was bitten by a snake, whose poison causes muscle paralysis leading to death by suffocation. He barely had time to teach the natives how to do CPR before he couldn’t move anymore. They managed to save him after doing CPR for over 2 hours. Must have been terrifying, as he was still conscious! 
> 
> Mythology: in some legends, Achilles was nearly invulnerable because his mother Thetis dipped him in the river Styx as an infant. Since she held him by one of his heels, it became his only weakness. During the Trojan war, not long after Hector’s death, Paris killed him with a poisoned arrow guided by Apollo himself.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas to you all! 🥳

During the weeks that followed Lexa’s injury, the three lovers spent as much time as possible pent up in their tent. Anya delegated most of the training sessions to Indra, who had the good grace not to comment or complain about it; and the Myrmidons remained away from the battlefield, enjoying a well-deserved rest. Galvanized by Lexa’s success in entering the city prior to her injury, the rest of the Achaean army fought with renewed vigor, but without the strong soldiers of Phthia, they made it nowhere near the walls, much to Pike’s disappointment. As the months passed, Clarke started showing more and more, until she felt like a whale. Her two lovers were quick to reassure her that she looked beautiful as always, more even, but hormones were a pain and often left her in tears. When she wasn’t hornier than ever.

As her second trimester began, the morning sickness receded and was replaced by another beast. Cravings. Truly it was quite a spectacle to see Lexa and Anya, the terrifying warriors and leaders the world had come to know, half-dressed and with bed hair, walking around the camp in the middle of the night looking for the weirdest combinations of food. Luna had warned them of what to expect, but at times the two cousins could swear their blonde lover was possessed.

The one part they couldn’t complain about, apart of course from Clarke’s breasts that had grown even larger, was the blonde’s insatiable appetite for sex. Not that she had ever shied from it before, but her needs had reached a whole new level, leaving Lexa and Anya to be glad there were two of them to satisfy her, as their stamina was being tested. The younger woman often called upon them to satisfy her, preferably at the most inappropriate moment. During a war meeting in which Lexa made the mistake to send a dark look to one other leader, which sent a gush of wetness down the blonde’s center. It wasn’t her fault that she was then compelled to nearly drag the princess of Phthia out of the tent by the arm onto a quieter area where she pushed the brunette’s shoulder down until Lexa’s head was between her thighs, lapping at her diligently. Or in the middle of a training session, when Anya’s lean and shining muscles bulging under the weight of her sword made her salivate so much that she sent the general a look smoldering enough to make her blush in front of her men. And when the older woman rushed into their tent, half-fuming with embarrassment, Clarke silenced her with a hot kiss before pushing her onto the furs and riding her into oblivion. Raven made it her mission to tease her friend about tiring her lovers out, until one morning the blonde entered the healers’ quarters without announcing herself and found the dark-haired former archer knuckle-deep into Luna. With burning ears, they promised not to mention the incident, or their respective sex lives anymore. So yes, awkwardness aside, life was good.

As Clarke grew larger, their bedroom activities slowed down, upon Luna’s recommendation. The sex marathons ended and got replaced by long sessions of tenderer lovemaking. With her large belly in the way, the positions they could indulge in were limited, and more often than not Anya and Lexa resorted to using their fingers and tongues to pleasure their lover, as they were afraid to “poke the baby” otherwise. That didn’t stop the two warriors from indulging in more vigorous fucking, under Clarke’s envious eyes.

The 5th anniversary of the Greek landing on the Trojan shore came and passed without much celebration, as the soldiers missed their homeland more and more. Lexa, worried about the upcoming birth of her child, allowed the Myrmidons a week of rest, and Anya certainly didn’t feel the need to oppose her. The blonde was bigger than ever and looked ready to explode. She complained of back pains, swollen ankles, and a constant need to urinate on a daily basis, and threatened to never give their unborn child any gift if he or she didn’t agree to come out very soon.

Clarke’s wish was granted on a cold morning. Lexa and Anya had left the tent to see to breakfast when a sudden sharp burn in her belly woke her with a cry. The pain, more intense than she had ever experienced, thankfully didn’t last, but it was only the beginning. As she tried to stand, the blonde realized that her thighs, her butt, and the furs under her were soaked, and it wasn’t like it sometimes happened when Anya or Lexa made her come so hard that she gushed out. The liquid was clear and odorless, and she identified it at once. The baby was coming.

Luckily for her, her two lovers were already on their way back and entered the tent not long after her realization. Seeing the look on her face, they stopped at once by the entrance and inquired with concerned voices, “Clarke, are you well?”

“The baby is coming,” was all she could tell them before another contraction sneaked up on her, making her groan.

Lexa jumped forward and kneeled by her right side, taking her hand into hers while Anya was doing the same with her left, panic visible in her almond eyes.

“Are you sure, _Niron_?” 

“Yes, pretty sure,” the blonde answered, trying not to roll her eyes at the question.

“I’ll get Luna,” Anya offered, fleeing the room at once. So apparently the general could face legions of enemies without shaking, but the idea of watching a birth sent her running. Good to know, Clarke thought, smiling at the irony.

While their lover went to get the healer, Lexa helped Clarke out of her wet clothes and changed the furs on their bed. The princess was dealing with the situation a little better, but she had never seen a child been delivered into the world either. Trying not to think about the fact that it was her own child at that, she mustered the best poker face she could and did her best to help Clarke get more comfortable. In truth, she looked rather constipated, but the blonde appreciated the effort and kept her comments to herself.

To her credit, Anya returned less than five minutes later with Luna in tow; Raven following too in case Clarke needed the extra support. The contractions remained 10 minutes apart or so for several hours, each leaving the blonde more tired and her throat rawer than the previous one. Although the healer had warned the two cousins that the birth would probably take hours and that not much would happen for a long time, Anya and Lexa refused to leave their younger lover’s side. Even when said lover threatened to cut off their balls if they ever tried to impregnate her again, they valiantly held her hands and wiped the sweat from her forehead. Raven had to swallow a snicker at the sight of the proud warriors reduced to two bundles of anxiety and sweetness. The Myrmidons had come to tolerate rather well the blunt former archer, whose arrows and blades were much appreciated, and her relationship with the curly-haired healer had helped her fit in even more. But still, there was no need to antagonize the two leaders while their nerves were being tested.

As the hours of the afternoon blended and the sky began to darken, Clarke’s contractions grew closer and closer, until one had barely stopped that another started. The blonde seemed already exhausted, and the worse had yet to come. As Luna rolled the future mother’s _chiton_ over her hips to clear the way, Anya slid behind her, supporting Clarke’s body against her chest.

“It hurts so much,” the blonde whimpered, her deep blue eyes full of tears.

“I know my love, I’m sorry,” Lexa replied, doing her best not to frown as she was losing all sensation in her right hand that Clarke was holding in a vise-like grip. It could be an issue, as it was her dominant hand, but at that moment all thoughts of fighting and war seemed so trivial she ignored them. 

“Clarke, at the next contraction, you’re going to have to push, OK?” Luna asked, indicating that it was time. Raven had gotten some soldiers to bring in clean furs, clothes, and warm water for the baby, upon her lover’s request. She was sitting on one side of the room, giving the future parents some privacy but ready to jump in if needed.

The blonde nodded weakly and, a minute later, pushed as hard as she could while her body felt as if it was being torn apart from the inside. She had to stop halfway through, and let herself fall back against the iron body of Anya. Lexa, kissed her hand gently, encouraging her as best as she could. The process repeated itself several times, Clarke swearing that she couldn’t push anymore before finding the strength to do it again; her lovers whispering the kindest things in her ears. One moment of searing pain made her almost blackout, but it was followed by a relief in the pressure on her lower region that had Clarke sigh in content for the first time in hours. The high-pitch cry that followed would forever remain engraved in her memory.

“Congratulations,” Luna said as she removed most of the blood covering the newborn with a cloth, “it’s a boy.”

“By all the gods,” Lexa whispered, her lower lip trembling. “He’s so beautiful.”

“You did so well, _Niron_ ,” Anya added, not faring much better as she couldn’t tear her glassy eyes away from the naked baby boy, the umbilical cord still attached to his stomach.

Luna congratulated the three mothers with warm smiles and light taps on their shoulders, cutting the cord in one sharp move, before looking once more at Clarke’s nether region. Her dark brown eyes bulged in surprise, and she stuttered, “Mh, Clarke? I need you to start pushing again.”

At first, the blonde assumed her friend was talking about the placenta and other waste she still needed to evacuate. However, after a moment, she felt the pressure grow again, and her lovers stared at her sex with hanging jaws. A couple of minutes later, Luna was pulling out another tiny baby with a mop of dark curls on her head.

“And a girl? By Zeus, twins?” Anya uttered; her face so pale she seemed about to pass out. Raven had to have noticed, as she gently placed a chair behind the general and made her sit before could she fall on her ass. Lexa hadn’t said a word yet, but she approached the newborn with the greatest care in the world, and place a finger inside a small hand that immediately clamped on it.

“She is so precious. They both are,” the brunette whispered, and tears began to roll down her high cheekbones. Unbothered by the presence of Luna and Raven, she cradled their daughter and sat by Clarke’s side, who had their baby boy lying on her chest.

“I love you, Clarke; I love you so much. Thank you for giving them life,” Lexa continued, more wetness coming out of her viridian eyes.

As she had somewhat recovered from her surprise, Anya stood from the chair and came to sit across from Lexa, her eyes moving from one child to the other in a continuous dance. When Clarke noticed how the brown eyes were shining too, she wiped the tear tracks running down the sharp cheekbones with a tender smile. She had done it. She had given birth not to just one, but two adorable tiny babies who latched on her breasts as soon as they came near them. If anyone had had any doubt, these were without question Lexa and Anya’s children, and the realization made her laugh.

The birth of twins was unexpected, though a welcome surprise for the three lovers who spent a lot of time revisiting the names they had chosen before. After numerous conversations and arguments, they eventually settled on Aden for the quiet boy and Madi for his more vocal sister. A few days after the birth, the twins were officially introduced to the rest of the Myrmidons, plus Octavia who was nested in Lincoln’s arms. Loud cheers followed the three lovers all around the camp, making the babies cry. Lexa and Anya tried at first to keep a sense of decorum and accept their men’s congratulations with a sharp nod, but soon they broke into large grins and proud chuckles. If Clarke had managed to tear down the walls surrounding their hearts, those two little bundles were sure to ruin their reputation for good. And, happy as they were, they couldn’t care less about it.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because you've all been very good and supportive of this fic, here comes another chapter, earlier than usual!

The five years that followed the birth of the twins didn’t see much change on the shores of Troy. The walls remained strong and the Achaean army, despite its best efforts, never managed to make it back into the city. Both armies had shrunk to only a small portion of what they once had been, and yet their leaders continued to order them back on the battlefield every few days; to fight to the death for a few yards of land soaked in blood and tears.

Away from the war cries and the rales of the dying, the children were growing under the watchful eyes of their three mothers. Aden remained a quiet little boy with almond-shaped blue eyes shining with curiosity and a mop of thin sandy hair that covered his forehead and ears. When he wasn’t following Clarke around, he showed a keen interest in books and maps. His blonde mother took it upon herself to teach him how to read, and Indra, when she wasn’t fighting, began to teach him strategies with the help of wooden figurines any other child his age would have played with.

Madi, on the other hand, was a lot more into weapons and physical activities than her brother. With her long wavy chocolate hair usually braided behind her head like her warrior mothers and her deep blue eyes, she looked more like a little Commander with each passing day. Despite Clarke’s concerns, Lexa and Anya had gifted the five-year-old a blunt sword on her birthday, and she could often be seen in the training pit challenging warriors five times her size. Octavia, very much a Myrmidon by now, loved to help the girl burn her excess of energy.

After hiding from her brother for years, the princess of Sparta had eventually confronted him and declared that she wanted to officially join the Myrmidons. King Bellamy had, of course, been rather unhappy at the news at first, and tried to forbid his younger half-sister from moving to Lexa’s camp. When he found out that she was seeing Lincoln, one of the scouts and the gentlest fighter among the contingent of Phthia, he threw a fit and threatened to have the shaved-head man killed. Despite her previous words to Octavia, Lexa couldn’t let another leader openly attack one of her men, especially one who had helped save her life in Troy, and she intervened. It took all the diplomacy Odysseus was capable of, but in the end, the hot-tempered King of Sparta had relented and allowed Octavia to settle into her lover’s tent. Towards the end of their sixth year on the Trojan land, the short brunette had realized that she was pregnant. With the help of Clarke and Luna, she had given birth to a tanned-skin very active brunette they named Aurora, after the princess’s mother. Although there was a two-year age gap between, them, the little girl loved nothing more than to spend time with Aden and Madi, and the twins had come to refer to her fondly as their _striksis_ , little sister.

*****

One afternoon, the three of them were roaming in the camp, having been given free time while Clarke practiced with Octavia in the training pit and their two other mothers were busy strategizing. As all the Myrmidons knew the children and kept an eye on them, the four women felt safe enough to leave them without a nanny. Taking advantage of the freedom, Madi pulled her two partners-in-crime towards their family tent, which had been enlarged ever since their birth, and started to rummage through Lexa’s things.

“Madi, what are you doing?” Aden asked, his pale blue eyes wide open with fear. Their mothers always treated them with kindness and a gentle hand and weren’t known to resort to physical punishment. Yet, he experienced a feeling of dread at the sight of his twin touching things they weren’t allowed to put their little hands on.

“Tadaaa!” the young brunette exclaimed with a large smile as she removed a small black box from the pile of things. “ _Nomon_ ’s war paint. I wanna try it!”

“Me too, me too!” Aurora added, jumping around on legs wobbly with excitement, always ready to follow in Madi’s footsteps.

“We’re going to be in trouble if Mama sees us,” Aden whined, usually the voice of reason among the little trio. If it had not been for him, Madi would probably have earned herself, and Aurora by association, enough punishment to last a decade.

“Don’t worry, scaredy-cat,” she teased her brother, “I just want to copy _nomon_ ’s war paint. Then we’ll clean it, no one will know. Come on, help me! You’re so much better at drawing than me.”

The sandy-haired boy sighed as deeply as he could before nodding nonetheless. He might be a very serious and reasonable child, but he was still only five years old after all, and peer pressure was a real thing. Not to mention that there was nothing he wouldn’t do for his sister, or for the younger brunette who acted like their shadow. And, since Madi would go through with it anyway, he might as well make sure her warpaint looked nice. There was no doubt that he was the one who had inherited their Mama’s ability to paint and draw, and if his twin were to do it herself, she would end up looking more like a raccoon than a ferocious Myrmidon. They had a reputation to protect!

Aden inserted a finger into the cold, black paint and, with his tongue poking out and his small nose crinkled in concentration, he started to apply it on his sister’s face. For once, Madi was visibly trying to remain still and let him work, but the creamy liquid felt strange and Aden’s light fingers tickled her skin. She couldn’t help but chuckle and squirm, making the boy groan as his index slipped and he drew what looked a lot like a tear.

“Madi, stop moving! You’re making me miss.”

“My turn,” Aurora giggled once he stepped back and admired the result with a proud smile. “I want my daddy’s paint!”

This time Aden didn’t even try to argue, and he went to work on the three-year-old’s face while Madi paced around the tent in a startlingly good imitation of Lexa. Once Aurora was sporting the long lozenges characteristic of Lincoln, he painted his own eyelids black as his _nontu_ would.

Now that the three of them looked like Myrmidons, they played around the tent, charging each other loud war cry and excited gestures. After various alliances and betrayals, it came down to Madi and Aurora attacking a lone Aden who tried valiantly to defend his _nomon_ ’s favorite chair — dubbed her throne in their childish game. In their excitement, they failed to notice the flap of fabric covering the entrance that was moved aside and the three adults who stepped in quietly and stared at them with amused looks on their faces. 

“Well, well, well,” Lexa spoke up, interrupting the fight before Madi could pull her brother away from the chair and claim it for herself. “What is this? Three of my warriors, fighting among themselves? And two against one at that? That seems hardly fair.”

And with a playful war cry, she jumped in and stood by her son’s side, forcing Madi and Aurora to retreat by tickling them every time they came too close.

“ _Nontu_ , help us!” the young brunette looked at Anya with pleading eyes. “We can share the throne.”

A smirk pulled at the General’s lips and, with her most believable, “ _Kom war!_ ”, she ran forward and immobilized Lexa while their daughter and honorary niece tickled her; Aden doing his best to protect his _nomon_ from the traitorous attack.

Clarke remained further back by the entrance, happy to watch the loves of her life have fun and play together. She felt more than she heard Octavia enter the tent and place herself next to her, amused at the two leaders’ antics.

“Mommy!” Aurora shrieked as she noticed her mother, before running towards her as fast as her short legs would carry her and jumping into the brunette’s arms.

“Come here my little warrior,” Octavia said with affection as she took in the war paint on her daughter’s face, an almost replica of the one she had come to associate with her lover. “Let’s go show Daddy how intimidating you look.” And with a nod to the three other women, she exited the room, leaving them to deal with the twins and their sticky fingers.

To Clarke’s surprise, the game didn’t stop there, and now that the teams were perfectly balanced, she was asked to officiate as a judge while Anya and Madi attempted to conquer the throne defended by Lexa and Aden. When she let her lovers know, in veiled terms, that the winner would be the one to take her that night, the situation turned into an all-out war. Anya and Lexa were fairly evenly matched, but Madi had a slight advantage over her brother. One day, the sandy-haired boy would become a strong warrior and an excellent tactician. Alas, today, his love for books and strategies was of little help and his twin, who spent a lot more time than him in the training pits, gained the upper hand. The young brunette managed to capture the boy by twisting his arm behind his back, and she brought her “prisoner” to her side of the tent with a proud smirk.

“Looks like this is the end, Commander,” Anya teased her cousin. “What is it going to be? Will you agree to surrender the throne, or shall we tickle your warrior to the death?”

“ _Nomon_ , you can’t give up your throne! You’re the princess. I’ll be OK,” the brave little boy shouted, putting on a strong face and accepting his destiny. Aden of Phthia, son of Lexa, Anya, and Clarke, might pee his _chiton_ if the threat of tickling was carried out, but he would not beg for his life.

“I yield,” Lexa said, placing her hands in front of her so her daughter could fake tie them and drag her to the “prisoner” side of the tent. Once there, she put a knee on the ground and hugged Aden.

“I’m so proud of you, my courageous boy. But you need to know, both of you do,” she spoke as she looked at both her children with a tender smile, “that I would happily give up my throne for you. You are what matters the most to me, you and your mothers.”

“I love you, _Nomon_ ,” the blue-eyed boy muttered in her neck, his small arms tightening around her.

“I love you too, Aden. Never forget it.”

On Lexa’s chair — throne — Anya was looking at them gently while kissing their daughter’s mane, and the two of them also exchanged I love you’s now that the battle was won. The tender moment came to a brutal end when Clarke asked, “And now, who’s going to help me clean up this mess?”, and the two children ran out of the tent as quickly as they could, their previous rivalry entirely forgotten.

“Why don’t we let Lexa do it?” Anya teased, smug on her victory.

“Anya, don’t gloat,” the blonde scolded her with a wink. “You’ll get your reward tonight, no need to rub it in. Come on you two, help me. I swear, it looks like an army made it into our quarters, not three children and two adorable warriors.”

“Clarke!” Lexa whined, pouting at the thought of the fun she’d be excluded from that night, “we talked about this. You can’t call us adorable, cute, and similar things. It ruins our reputation.”

“Apologies, my strong, terrifying warrior princess,” the blonde smiled as she pulled Lexa in for a searing kiss, before biting her lower lip playfully and slapping a strong butt cheek. “And now, Commander, please do something about the mess your children made!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nomon = mother, first parent => Lexa  
> Nontu = father, second parent => Anya  
> Kom war! = to war!


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut, smut, and a little bit of plot at the end

The same evening, the three lovers were alone in their tent, the twins spending the night with Octavia, Lincoln, and Aurora. As promised, Clarke agreed to let Anya, the winner of the pretend war, take her, and Lexa was relegated to one corner of the room. The brunette was pouting with determination as her partners were being, in her opinion, unnecessarily cruel. Not only was she excluded from the bed, but she was also under strict instructions not to touch herself while watching her two lovers have sex. She had tried to argue that such a punishment would be considered too severe even in Tartarus, but the two blondes were inflexible. She was sitting on a chair, her breath quickening in pace with the show and her fists tightened on her thighs.

Clarke and Anya took their time making out first, exchanging deep kisses while hands roamed around muscles and softer spots. The younger woman had her fingers tangled in long dirty-blond hair, pulling her lover closer against her hungry mouth. Anya, her cock already half-hard, was massaging the generous backside, both her hands over the _chiton_. After a few minutes, Clarke pulled at the general’s hair to interrupt their kisses, before she kneeled in front of her with a smirk in Lexa’s direction. Though she knew what was coming, the brunette couldn’t hold her jealous moan when pale hands lifted the white tunic over lean legs and wrapped around the long shaft no longer hidden. After stroking it and kissing its length a few times, the blonde took the member in her mouth, her tongue playing with the slit and head so well Anya closed her eyes and sighed in pleasure. When, about 10 minutes later, a finger began to tease her puckered hole, she came with a low cry, her hips jerking in pace with the expulsion of her cum. Turning her face to the side, she noticed Lexa who was looking at them with eyes full of lust, her cock hard under the _chiton_ her hands were gripping so tightly that her knuckles were white. With a chuckle, she wondered how long the woman would be able to contain herself.

After wiping her mouth, Clarke stood up and kissed Anya thoroughly, letting her taste herself. Then, the younger blonde walked backward until her legs hit their bed, and she pulled her tunic over her torso and head, letting it fall on the ground with an exaggerated gesture. She stood there in all her naked glory, the candlelight making the shadows dance over the curves and dips of her body. When she had first met the Myrmidons, she would have felt too self-conscious to attempt such a bold move. But after years of training and listening to her two lovers tell her how much they enjoyed her body, her shyness was long gone. The 28-year-old sported lean muscles and a decent set of abs, despite the few stretch marks left by her pregnancy. Her once long mane now stopped just above her shoulders, making it more manageable during a fight.

After admiring the view for a moment, Anya pulled her _chiton_ over her head and approached her lover with feline grace. If Clarke had the beauty of Aphrodite, then the 35-year-old general was Mars incarnated. Long, lean muscles covered her narrower frame decorated with an impressive collection of scars and tattoos. Her dirty-blond hair reached the middle of her back when it wasn’t braided tightly. Her breasts, much smaller than Clarke’s, remained firm and perky, their light brown nipples hardened by the cool air that managed to enter the tent. Her cock, having already recovered from her first orgasm, was standing proudly against her lower stomach, and the view made Lexa salivate.

Still ignoring their other lover, the two blondes let themselves fall on the bed of furs, rolling around as they kissed. Clarke eventually found herself on top, grinding on a taut stomach, her head hang back and eyes shut. The wetness that escaped her folds was painting the erection of her lover with each move until the shaft was fully glistening. All while staring at the supine general, she grabbed the cock with one hand and placed herself right over it before starting a slow descent. Anya had to bite her lips to stop herself from coming at the feeling of warmth that surrounded her. She should be used to it by now, as she rarely spent more than a few days without penetrating the younger woman. And yet, each time it felt like the first and she wanted to explode as soon as she was sheathed in the welcoming opening. Her predicament didn’t get any better when Clarke started riding her with reckless abandon, but she had a reputation to uphold, especially in front of Lexa, and she soldiered through it.

After a few minutes, the younger blonde’s moans grew louder and more frequent and she shuddered every time her fingers pinched her erect nipples. Sensing that she was close, Anya brought a hand near her cock and found the pearl hidden just above where her shaft was being swallowed in and out. Gathering some wetness around, she rubbed some small circles at the base of the nub, and Clarke exploded less than 20 seconds later. Her body shook with the after waves of her orgasm until she lifted herself off the general’s still hard cock and let herself fall on the furs next to her.

“By the gods, that was amazing, my love,” she said with a lazy smile, catching her breath.

“ _Nirons_ , please,” Lexa interrupted them as they began kissing again, half-sobbing. Her cock was so hard it was painful, the jerks of her hips making it rub against her _chiton_ as her hands itched to grab it and stroke herself.

“What do you think, _ai hodness_? She has been very behaved, should we be merciful?” Anya asked with a smirk as she looked at Clarke who lay, still entirely naked, on the bed. “Should I share my prize with her?”

The younger blonde answered by lifting her head from the furs and, her blue eyes staring at the viridian ones, said in a cajoling voice, “Come here.”

The brunette sprung from the chair and made her way by the bed so fast she reached it before her tunic could land next to where she had sat. She lowered herself on the blonde, mindful not to hurt her despite her excitement, and brought their lips together in a hot kiss, their sexes rubbing against each other.

“I want you so bad,” she whispered when their lips separated, “I need to be inside you.”

“Do it, Lex. Make me yours,” Clarke pleaded, her hips canting with desire.

Not wasting another second, the brunette aligned herself with the blonde’s entrance, and thrust slowly but resolutely until their bodies were flushed against each other, her balls resting on Clarke’s folds. She started pulling out and pushing in at a rapid pace, groaning every time she was fully inside Clarke. Her lovers’ little stunt had turned her on so much, she wanted more, needed more. Turning towards Anya who was watching them with interest, lazily stroking herself, she gave a pleading look.

“Looks like I will continue to collect my reward after all,” the tall blonde said, beaming at the prospect, before she placed herself behind Lexa.

Her cock still glistened from Clarke’s inner juices, but the brunette wasn’t so used to being taken from behind. In order not to injure her, Anya took the necessary time to rim her and relax the tight opening with a finger, and then two, until she could move in and out easily. Once she was satisfied, she blanketed Lexa with her body, waiting for the brunette to pause inside Clarke, and entered her carefully.

The Commander bit back a moan as she felt so full that she had to take a moment to breathe, her head resting on Clarke’s shoulder. Once the small burn had subsided, she started to move again, impaling herself deeper on Anya first before she thrust into the younger blonde underneath her. The process required some synchronization, forcing Anya to remain practically immobile while Lexa was doing most of the work, but it was enough for the general. Despite coming once already in Clarke’s mouth, after being ridden by the blonde and finding herself now deeply sheathed inside her brunette lover, a rare treat that she thoroughly enjoyed, Anya couldn’t stop her climax any longer. Her neck taunt and face towards the sky, she released her seed with a cry the gods had to have heard from Mont Olympus.

The general pulled out her softening sex and lay next to her two lovers, watching them fuck with a smile, when an idea struck her. Getting back on her knees, she placed herself by Lexa’s side, and let a hand roam between the muscular butt cheeks and thighs until she found what she had been looking for. Between her cum that was slowly dripping from the brunette’s ass and their respective perspiration, her index was lubricated enough to enter the small opening located behind Lexa’s balls. As the Commander’s hips were thrusting at a rapid pace, her cock drawing moans from Clarke every few seconds, Anya had some difficulties inserting her finger at first. But once Lexa slightly canted her pelvis to accommodate her older lover better, her perseverance paid off. High on the sensations of both her shaft and her slit being stimulated, the brunette emptied herself into the younger blonde less than two minutes later, making her orgasm too.

After wiping themselves with a cloth, the three women found themselves lying on the bed, exhausted but happy. It didn’t take them long to fall asleep, curled against each other in a mass of entwined limbs and tangled hair.

*****

The following morning, Anya and Lexa were inspecting their camp and men when they noticed King Bellamy passing by, a beautiful black-haired woman at his arm.

“Who’s that?” the General inquired, surprised to see the man so openly display his latest conquest.

“That’s Gina, King Bellamy’s mistress,” a tall brunette, Echo, answered. The woman, as all Myrmidons, was an excellent fighter, but her primary skills lay elsewhere. She was second to none when it came to gathering information, and spent most of her time roaming the other Achaean camps and keeping her ears open.

The statement irked Lexa, who immediately strode back to her tent, Anya in tow. Once the two women were back in the privacy of their quarters, Clarke joining them when she noticed the anger on her lover’s face, the General asked, “ _Niron_ , are you OK?”

“We came here to get Helen back,” the brunette started, seething, “we bled, lost men and friends, spent 10 years away from our home for him, and he couldn’t care less.”

“What are you talking about my love?” Clarke asked, confused as to why the normally so composed woman was in such furor.

“Bellamy,” Anya explained quickly. “We saw him earlier, with a woman who is apparently his mistress. He wasn’t even hiding her.”

“I see,” the blonde nodded, as Lexa continued ranting.

“Anya almost died in this stupid war. I almost died too. Our children have known nothing but these shores and the clamors of the nearby battlefield for five years! I am so, so tired of all this. It feels like it has all been for nothing.”

“What do you want to do, Lex?” the young blonde asked, taking her lover’s hand in hers.

“I want to leave this forsaken land before it takes everything from me,” the brunette admitted, her eyes lost in thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tartarus: the part of Hades’s realm used as a dungeon of torment for the wicked, ex: Sisyphus pushing his boulder for eternity.  
> nirons = my beloved, my lovers  
> ai hodness = my love


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are, the final chapter! 😊

A few days later, the whole Achaean camp had heard that the Myrmidons were getting ready to leave the Trojan shore. Not that the soldiers, and some of their leaders, couldn’t understand why they wanted to give up and return home, after 10 long years staring at the tall walls that remained between them and their goal. But still, it was considered desertion, a fact that Pike made sure to remind every person he crossed paths with on his way to Lexa’s tent. The bald dark-skinned man entered the Myrmidons’ part of the camp one morning, furor painted all over his face. With Odysseus in tow, he placed himself between the Commander and her ship, stopping her as she was carrying a heavy crate.

“So, it is true?” the king snarled. “You are leaving, like a dog, your tail between your legs!”

“Yes,” Lexa replied calmly, not wanting to raise to the bait. “We are leaving. Enough is enough. We gave you 10 years of our lives, I’ve lost most of my men, and the walls of Troy still stand. And for what? Your brother has long stopped caring about Helen, and doesn’t even hide his mistress anymore.”

“You agreed to come with us and fight until Troy falls. You gave your word, breaking it now is treason and all know it. Who would have thought that the mighty Commander would turn out to be nothing more than a spineless coward too busy playing Mommy to care about honor?”

The brunette gritted her teeth so hard they hurt, but she resisted her urge to strike the taunting man across the face. A few years before, she probably would have, no matter the consequences. But there was more than her life at stake, there was the freedom of what was left of her warriors, not to mention her family. She knew that many Greeks thought becoming a parent had mollified her, that the proud and strong heroin appeared weaker now that she worried about her children. And yet, in her heart, she knew that it was the opposite. Before coming to Troy, she had cared for nothing other than glory and war. After meeting Clarke, and even more during the last five years, she had learned that there were more important things in life. She had always been brave, but now she would do absolutely anything, including battle a god, to protect the four people who owned her heart. They made her stronger and gave her a higher purpose, and she owed it to them to give them all a better life than the one they had known so far.

“More glory for you then,” she eventually replied, staring at the man without blinking.

When he realized that hurting the woman’s pride was getting the expected result, the man changed tactics, forgetting Odysseus’s advice, and resorted to threats.

“Troy will fall, mark my word, we won’t need you for that. And once it does, I will come after you and your precious family and make you regret this day!” he shouted, before striding away.

“Are you sure about this, Lexa?” Odysseus asked once the King of kings was gone, and his concern was all too clear in his voice. “Pike is not a forgiving man, and his grudge will only strengthen with time. You, your family, and your Myrmidons will not be safe in Phthia when this war ends.”

“Thank you, my old friend, for all your wisdom,” the brunette replied with a sad smile. “I don’t think we will see each other again, for you are right, returning to Greece will be our death warrant. I pray that you can make it back safely to Ithaca soon.”

The Myrmidons hurried to finish transporting everything they had back to their _pentekonters_ and leave before Pike changed his mind. Of the 6,000 men who had come from Phthia, only about 500 remained, and 6 ships were enough to carry them all. Lexa’s heart was heavy with sadness at the thought of all those lives cut short, all those terrible fates because one man had decided to steal the wife of another. How cruel could the gods be to let such tragedies happen?

She was standing at the helm of her main ship, looking over the horizon, when her two lovers joined her, one on each side. Anya’s eyes were facing the sea, probably in the direction of Phthia, and Lexa didn’t need to ask her cousin what thoughts plagued her mind, for she knew they shared them. To her right, Clarke was looking in a different direction, towards the shore that was slowly fading away, and the city where she had been born.

“Troy hasn’t been my home for many years,” the blonde started as a single tear fell from her sapphire orbs, “and yet I am sad to leave, because I don’t think I will ever see it again.”

The two warriors kept silent, understanding the younger woman’s pain, and Lexa took her hand and squeezed it gently.

“Before we left Phthia,” she spoke after a moment, “I consulted the oracle. She said that if I went to Troy, I would never set foot in Phthia again. I always assumed it meant that I would die here, but now I understand that it was a warning. We can’t go back to Greece lest Pike’s vengeance follows us upon his return.”

“Oh Lexa, I am sorry,” Clarke exclaimed, having never heard the prophecy before.

“I don’t regret it,” the brunette replied with a smile, before pointing at her two lovers and at their children who were playing nearby, oblivious to the dangers that loomed on the horizon. “The priestess also mentioned that, if I left Phthia, I would find what I didn’t know I was missing. It was you, Anya, our children. I was living a shallow existence, always fighting and training, but my heart was empty. I was keeping it hidden, protected behind ice walls, even from Anya. Like Troy for you, Phthia was my home, and I shall miss it, but you four are what truly matters.”

The General remained quiet, not feeling the need to repeat almost word for word what her cousin had already stated, but she hugged her two lovers with care and placed a kiss on each of their forehead. Though she hadn’t been born in Phthia, the tall blonde had come to consider it home too, and the thought of never returning saddened her. And yet, she knew she ought to be grateful to have survived 10 years of war when so many hadn’t, and to have built a family of her own. Wherever the two other women would go, she would follow and protect them.

“Where to, Commander?” Anya asked as the Trojan shore disappeared from their sight.

“How do you feel about going west?” the brunette replied after an internal deliberation. “The east and north are Greek territories, and we can’t force any of the kings there to risk Pike’s wrath by welcoming us. But, to the west, there might be lands where we can be free, away from his hubris and the gods.”

“West it is then,” the General nodded with a lazy smile, and she turned the helm with a sure hand.

No matter where fate would lead them and what obstacles they might encounter on the way, the three women knew that they would face them together, united, with their children and friends by their side.

Summary of the rest of the war:

Back on the Trojan shore, without the Myrmidons, the Greek army had no other choice but to use a stratagem to win the war. Odysseus had the army build a giant hollow wooden horse in which he and some soldiers hid, and ordered the army to board their ships and hide in a cove. The Trojans, believing the horse to be an offer to Poseidon, pulled it inside their city in the hope to gain the god’s favor for themselves. At night, the Greeks exited the horse and opened the gates of the city, letting the rest of the army in. Most of the Trojans were killed, including King Priam (=Marcus) and Prince Paris (=Finn). Only a few escaped, led by Aeneas, an ancestor of Remus and Romulus and therefore the Romans. The Greeks made it back home with some difficulty, especially Odysseus who offended Poseidon and took 10 years to return to Ithaca. Upon his return, Agamemnon (=Pike) was killed by his wife, who hadn’t forgiven him for sacrificing their daughter. Menelaus (=Bellamy) got his wife Helen back after Paris’s death and they returned to Sparta together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will probably/certainly/when I find the time and motivation and after I manage to finish my other fics write a sequel to this, based on the Odyssey. It will focus on Clexanya, their children, and friends instead of Odysseus of course.
> 
> Quick survey: would you rather it remained realistic, as I did for this fic (the gods and other mythical creatures are mentioned but don’t appear), or have a mythical approach as in the original Odyssey (mythical monsters such as cyclops and sea creatures will be an integral part of the story, a bit like Percy Jackson)? Please answer in the comments 😊  
> Either way, Clexanya and their children will live, I promise. Haven’t decided about the horses yet, as they haven’t been mentioned in a while hehe.
> 
> If you haven't done it yet, please leave a kudo as it will encourage more people to read this story, and don't hesitate to have a look at my other fics. Thanks again for all your support and kind comments! Take care


End file.
